Of Magic and Mutants
by charcoalbrumby
Summary: Cowritten with Unca Pafoo.Max Flock are created on Dumbledore's orders to protect HP. They're his unwilling, under..wait..UNpaid guards.Mostly stripped of free will,only when Voldemort is dead is the Flock free.Dunno pairs Fax,HPLL?T for rude gestures.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter or its characters. They are solely J.K Rowling's work. We also do not own Maximum Ride or its characters. They are solely James Patterson's work. We are charcoalbrumby and Unca Pafoo.

**Unca Pafoo: That last line made us sound like aliens. "We are charcoalbrumby and Unca Pafoo."**

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_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

_**But he will not succeed without help of many kinds…**_

_**He will fall quickly, but friends will support him, for together they are a tower…**_

_**And everyone will depend on the scorned, the shunned, the slaves and their leader…**_

_**For they are the ones who will carry the tower on their backs.**_

**31st July, 1981**

The highway was mostly deserted, with only one or two cars speeding by towards wherever they were going. On either side of the road, rugged, sandy-coloured hills and patches of green forest covered the countryside. On the horizon, outlines of weather-beaten mountains could be seen, dark against the early morning sunlight. A single hawk soared in the light blue sky, sharp eyes missing nothing. The entire scene was so calm that no one could possibly suspect anything.

A loud crack suddenly signaled the arrival of an old man. He appeared by a road branching off the highway, leading between two hills and into an unseen valley. The old man frowned slightly and adjusted his silver-spangled, Gothic purple robes, carefully retying his white beard as well. He wanted to look his best for this event, as it was a very important one. His ice-blue eyes twinkled briefly as he fiddled with his wand, finally deciding to tuck it into a well-concealed pocket.

Satisfied with his appearance, Albus Dumbledore turned and strode down the barely used road. As the ancient and wise wizard walked, he hummed "Happy Birthday" under his breath. Today was dear Harry Potter's first birthday; he would be waking up by now, with James and Lily celebrating. However joyous this occasion is, the war was still on and Dumbledore needed to purchase protection for the subject of the Prophecy - either Neville Longbottom or Harry Potter. Personally, Dumbledore believed that the Prophecy described Harry, which was quite sad as it meant James and Lily would probably die. Hopefully, if all went well at the School, Harry Potter would be receiving the most important gift he would ever receive - even though Harry didn't know that he would have it.

Turning a bend, Albus Dumbledore finally reached the end of the road and stopped.

In front of him stood a mighty, dull grey concrete building. Few windows were visible, and only one door. Dumbledore's keen eyes, despite his age, picked out what appeared to be a furnace of some sort. As he watched through the barbed wire and iron fences, two men wheeled a trolley out and headed towards the furnace. On the trolley was a black body bag, quite obviously full.

Dumbledore winced and looked away. Although it was for the greater good, Albus Dumbledore did not enjoy witnessing death and destruction. Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he reached forward and pressed a small button on a speaker beside the wrought iron gate.

A mechanical voice squawked. "Name and business?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and calmly declared, "My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am here on a meeting scheduled with a Ms. Anne Walker."

"Very well. Welcome to the School, a place where scientific genius of all forms is greatly appreciated."

Dumbledore gave a serene smile and walked through the slowly opening gate. As he reached the door of the School, it was opened and a woman smiled warmly, beckoning him inside. She was clearly startled at his strange attire, but hid it quite well.

As the door softly closed behind him, Dumbledore's eyes involuntarily widened. His Legimency skills were undergoing severe strain from all the thoughts in the gloomy building.

_**PAIN wings? Brain activity is atrocious maze burn feet maze maze exit! Sample of its blood… cage small! CAGE! Pain WHITECOAT would drugging it help? ERASER! RUN winged mutant! Kill! Freak! Just wondrous, look at these results… nomorenomorenomore…no more use, call the Erasers and dispose of it…**_

"Um, sir? Dr Walker's office is down this way."

Dumbledore was jolted out of a million confused thoughts as the scientist spoke. He blinked twice and then smiled. "Ah yes, I apologize. My attention was wandering. Shall we?"

Dumbledore followed the scientist down a corridor and through a door. A woman, her brown hair tied back in a knot, greeted him with a bob of her head.

"Good morning, Mr. Dumbledore. My name is Walker, Dr. Walker. I assume that you are here to discuss your… purchase?"

Dumbledore gave a grandfatherly smile, and his eyes twinkled. He gently entered her mind and began to influence her slightly. "Good morning to you too, Dr. Walker. Please address me as Albus, if you wish."

She looked rather flustered, but quickly recovered. "Ah… very well, Albus. I must insist, though, that you call me Anne. I hope that you don't mind."

Dumbledore replied, "Not at all, Anne." His smile ever-so-slightly widened. "Now, I believe that we must discuss my… purchase."

Anne frowned and her eyes narrowed slightly as she said, "Yes. Might I enquire as to why you wish to purchase 6 avian-human hybrids?"

Dumbledore's smile changed from grandfather to marginally sad. "A very good friend of mine will… leave the country for a long time. I am purchasing these hybrids to protect his son, who he entrusted to me."

Anne's frown cleared. "I take it that your friend's son is very important?"

Dumbledore suppressed a chuckle as he said, "Oh, yes. Very important." If only she knew…

Anne nodded and asked, brow furrowed, "I take it that you understand how valuable, how dangerous, how very delicate it is to make an avian-human hybrid? And that the cost for the creation of _one _is worth a small fortune?"

Dumbledore nodded and answered, "Fortunately, I have several small fortunes at my disposal. My friend is very rich and he would have want the best protection for his son." Seeing the woman waver, he added, "Of course, a generous amount will be donated to your worthy cause."

Anne quickly made up her mind and reached into a drawer. Pulling out six bulky forms, she slid them onto the desk separating them. "If you would please fill out these forms. They determine what gender, age, average size, appearance and powers your hybrids will have."

Dumbledore frowned and asked, "May I see an example, or a picture? I am most curious to how you create these hybrids, and I would prefer knowing what the hybrids will look like."

Anne nodded and rose, holding the forms and leading Dumbledore out of her office. They turned left, then right, then went up some stairs and went left again. Dumbledore was soon lost and wondering how on earth Anne managed to efficiently maneuver around the School.

They finally reached their destination. Opening a door, Dumbledore saw a very impressive room. It was filled with gadgets and hologram projectors.

Anne walked over to a keyboard and tapped in several keys, pulling up hovering images. As she searched, she commented, "We have many different people that can be combined to produce an acceptable hybrid. Now, what we will be doing is selecting a male and a female donator, and use this computer's technology to produce an image of what the hybrid would look like. Ah, here we go. Feel free to flip through the computer's archives."

Dumbledore peered at the computer, and tentatively selected a man that appealed to him. **Jeb Batchelder.** Dumbledore smiled and selected the man, closely followed by a woman named Valencia Martinez. Tapping the combine key, he watched in astonishment as the humans seemed to blur and shift.

In their place, on the computer screen, sat a small girl. Her hair was brown, with streaks of blonde and slight amounts of red. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and she was quite tall. Zooming forward to her teens, Dumbledore was quite impressed. He said without looking at Anne, "Yes, I think I'll take this one. As the leader of the group of six, if that is possible."

Anne quickly assured him, "No problem. That is very easily done. Now, what bird species would you like for her wings?"

Dumbledore flipped through yet more archives and selected a pair of falcon's wings. They were light brown to tan with white streaks, along with pure white secondary feathers. Put together, the hybrid was quite awe-inspiring.

Dumbledore paused and asked, "About the powers, could I add some of my own?"

Anne shrugged and said, "If you really want to…"

Dumbledore nodded and quickly filled out the forms. When Anne inspected the forms, she raised an eyebrow.

"You are aware that you listed nearly all of the powers for all of the hybrids?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again as he responded, "As I said before, nothing but the best for my friend's son."

Anne frowned again and said, half-expecting the old man to give up, "That will be 6 million dollars."

Dumbledore's face remained genial. "Would you like me to write out the check now?" He retrieved a checkbook, quickly wrote a check out and passed it to Anne. She was astonished.

"Yes, well, um… thank you. We will start creating the first hybrid right now. Have a good day, Albus."

"You too, Anne." Dumbledore smiled again and stood, reaching across to shake Anne's hand. He turned and walked out the door, holding his copy of the forms. Inwardly, he was jumping up and down, cheering - something that the great Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, leader of the light, would NOT do.

Before he left the School, Dumbledore followed the signs to a toilet. On the way, he saw a window and paused. Curiosity overtook him and he looked down.

A dozen dog cages were piled, one on top of the other. Inside, horrifically mangled creatures oozed, groaned and flopped. In the corner was a child, gleaming brightly and jerking around his or her cage unsteadily. With a rush of horror, Dumbledore realized that he or she - _it _- had been turned to glass and metal. Even as he watched, it slowed, stopped and lay still. Sending a mind probe, Dumbledore realized that it had passed away.

Dumbledore hurriedly walked out of the morbid building. Once out of sight, he apparated back to Hogsmeade and asked for an Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Madame Rosmerta looked at him, a bit startled with the change from the regular Butterbeer or hot chocolate, and so early in the morning too! - , but walked off to prepare the order. After all, Dumbledore was the first customer she had had for nearly a week now - due to the war.

After a few gulps of the strong drink, Dumbledore felt a little better. Those experiments were for the Greater Good, after all. In fact, Dumbledore felt cheery enough to start humming "Happy Birthday" again.

_Happy birthday, Harry,_ Dumbledore thought. _I got you the best birthday present possible - your protection._

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**2nd January, 1982**

"This is madness!"

"Oh, why ever would you say that, Gowlett? We're only undertaking the greatest creation of the century! We're creating an avian-human hybrid with just about every power possible mixed in, not knowing what that would do to its mind and body! Then, after that, we're creating another. And another. Six of them! Oh, don't forget, we have a deadline. And the threat of having to pay six million if we mess this up. So no pressure, Gowlett!"

"Oh, shut up. Walker seems to want this really bad for that Dumb-old-dork guy. Just shut up and work, Telford."

Telford did shut up, but not before he muttered, "Dumbledore, you idiot. Not Dumb Old Dork."

The two scientists were silent for a while. Test tubes filled with glowing chemicals clinked together once or twice as Telford and Gowlett slowly worked on the mutant. On the other side of the room, a black falcon let out a weak shriek as another scientist collected some of its blood, and some of its DNA. Small tanks filled with the same vividly coloured liquids sat around the room. The liquids gave off an unearthly, pulsing gleam, exuding an aura of power.

Anne Walker stalked into the room, looking majorly PO'ed. Picking out a random man and glaring at him, she snapped, "Is Subject One hatched yet? After all, we need to start working on Subject Two. We need Subjects One to Six all fully developed and ready by 1991, and it looks pretty slow going here!"

The flustered scientist bobbed his head wildly up and down. "Subject One will hatch today. We're keeping it in an incubation tank, over there. We're also already working on Subject Two, which is what Wilson is doing over there with the black falcon. It'll be hatched in about 2 months. Collins over there predicts that it'll be hatched on the 5th of March. I have no idea why, but he seems to think so, and since he predicted Subject One's hatchery as today…"

The man trailed off before returning the subject. "Telford and Gowlett are preparing the injected powers for when Subject One hatches."

A huge egg sat in the red, heat-filled tank. It was the size of a human baby and seemed ready to hatch soon, judging by the faint cracks appearing. Several scientists stood over the tank, making notes. One punched a tiny hole in the egg, inserted a needle and injected a bright blue liquid. The egg seemed to shudder and more cracks appeared. The scientists murmured excitedly and a few more stepped forwards, preparing to inject more black, white and pale pink liquids.

Anne wavered slightly, glancing at the tank. "Well… good work, I suppose. Remember, if you mess this up, you're paying for it out of your own pockets." Turning, she stalked out of the room again.

Collins exhaled and grumbled, "Isn't she in a mood today? Just look at her…"

He was quite rudely interrupted by several shouts of excitement.

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**Max's POV**

Voices, many voices, muttering different things over and over again. Annoying. I stretch, knocking against the hard inside of my egg. I'm tired of my egg. I want OUT. OUT, where I can scream at the voices to shut up. My wings twitch, irritated.

I stretch again, rolling in the liquid filling my egg. I open my mouth and drink some of it. It's my air, my food. It's a strange colour… I know how to describe it. It's called green. I hear many voices outside of my egg, and they tell me many things. The Voice inside me, too. It says things, teaches me. It taught me about colours, shapes, names, objects, situations.. I learned just about everything from it.

Suddenly, a tiny bright hole appears in my shell. A metal stick pushes its way inside, like many other times before. I quickly pull my wings and arms out of its way, not wanting to get poked. It shudders and I feel my egg swell slightly, feel the liquid change. It's more blue now. More voices, whispering over and over again. I drink some of the liquid again, and I feel myself changing. Just like every other time, when they inject my egg and I change on the insides. Great fun… not.

Hey, I'm changing even more than before! I've never used sarcasm. Good for you, Maximum.

_Get ready,_ my Voice warns me. _They are injecting more powers for you. It is nearly time for you to break free. Time to get out, Maximum._

My name… is quite strange. Maximum. Maximum potential, maximum performance, maximum power**. **I like it. But it's too long.

_Max, then,_ the Voice whispers. _Call yourself Max, but I will call you Maximum._

I kick out with my feet, a little annoyed that the Voice still called me that long, unwieldy name. I'm surprised when my foot connects with the shell and makes a big crack. More voices, shouting now. Something about getting the development room ready.

_Good, Maximum. You learn fast. This is what you are meant to do,_ my Voice encourages. _Kick your way out._

I kick, harder. More cracks. More voices. I twist and kick, and suddenly, a piece of shell falls away. I drink some more of the green-blue liquid and start kicking my way out fully. OUT!

I'm out. I'm in a warm, red coloured box of some sort. Outside its glass walls, I can finally see the sources of the voices. Humans - whitecoats - standing around my tank, yelling at each other excitedly. Fight or Flight kicks in and I scramble towards the back of the tank, flapping my wings wildly to help speed myself up. More voices explode around me. "It worked! It's fully operational, and seems to have the right instincts and metabolism… come on, help me get it into the Development Room."

I shrink away as hands reach out to me. Suddenly, unable for Flight, I kick into Fight mode. Teeth bared, I flare my wings and beat at the hands with them.

"YOUCH!"

Huh. My feathers are razor-sharp. Who would have known?

"Alright, alright. Bennett, go get some of those nanotube gloves Dumbledore donated for handling it. We need to be able to move it without getting sliced up like bread."

I glared at the whitecoats, who were backing away slowly. My wings slowly lowered, then tucked themselves into two dips on either side of my back. It felt cramped, but I wanted to expose as little as possible of myself to the whitecoats.

Soon, one of them came back, holding several pairs of elbow-length silver gloves. The whitecoats slid them on, then slowly picked me up again. I tried my trick with my wings again, but I only succeeded in scratching the gloves.

They brought in a trolley, with a cage, a towel and a piece of strange looking cloth on it. A kinder-looking whitecoat picked me up and used the towel to clean off the rest of the blue liquid and shell bits. He said, "Hello, Maximum. I'm Jeb Batchelder, your father."

I must have looked as though I was freaking out, which I was - because I was born in an EGG! - because Jeb laughed kind of sadly and put the towel down. Reaching over with one hand, he shook out the weird piece of cloth. It turned out to be a dress or tunic of some sort, made of linen. There were two slits cut out for my wings. Jeb pulled the tunic over me and helped pull my wings out. Then, with a sigh, he gently pushed me into the cage and locked the door. The towel was thrown over the cage and everything went dark.

_It's all right, Maximum. They're taking you to a room, where you'll live for the rest of your time here at the School._

Finally, we reached wherever we were going. The towel was pulled off, and I stared around the room.

It was dull - dull grey. Spaced evenly around the room were six cages, with curtains that went all around the space around each cage. The curtains could be pulled open and shut with a cord that was reachable from the cages. Also in each curtained-off space was a shelf and a bar, obviously to hang your clothes on. Lastly, in the center of the room was a medium-sized round table and six small, wooden chairs.

Jeb opened the cage and carried me over to one of the big cages in the room, gently pushing me in again. He smiled warmly, if a bit sadly, at me, and handed me a bowl and spoon.

I looked at the bowl of weird, mushy stuff, confused with what I was supposed to do with it.

The Voice said, _It's baby food. Very nutritious and, I'm sure, not very pleasant._

At the same time, Jeb chuckled and said, "It's food. Use the spoon to eat it, Maximum."

I try a tentative smile. It feels funny, but nice. Jeb grins back at me before leaving the room, dragging the trolley with him. I eat the food, grimacing at the disgusting taste.

If the Voice could have laughed, I'm sure it would have. _I warned you, Maximum._

I just yawned and curled up in my cage, hugging my legs and wrapping my wings around me._ Shut up, Voice. _

Hm. I must be improving even more. Before, I couldn't hold conversations with the Voice, just listen to it answer unspoken questions.

The Voice just chuckled and faded away into the recesses of my mind, but not before it said one more thing to me. _Remember, Maximum. You have a destiny. You will not like it, but it is still yours. You will be the leader and the slave._

I grumbled, _Joy._

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**Unca Pafoo: ****Well, first chapter is up. Expect the next in about the week or so. Please review.**

**charcoalbrumby: ****I get to explain some stuff. I'm more of the Harry Potter person here, Unca Pafoo's the Max Ride one. I've only read the first two books, but I'm trying... just can't find the third one… never mind. Read all of them now.**

**Anyway! Max gets her Voice now, because Dumbledore wanted her to have some leadership. Leadership for the leader for the not-leaders. Isn't that confusing? Anyway, the Development Room is kinda like a hospital room. Go search an image, and replace the beds with big cages.**

**Dumbledore seems a bit callous and uncaring about Max here, but that's because even for magicals, humans that aren't three inches high with wings rank as majorly freaky. Also, the only information Dumbledore has on the avian-humans is from the School, who is portraying them as "objects" and "its", not humans and he/shes. Naturally, Dumbledore would see Max and her Flock as "its" too. Even more so because he sees them as weapons, fighters, for Harry.**

**Jeb is known to be Max's father now, because…**

**Unca Pafoo: ****Thanks, charcoal. Because I want to (hehe). No, actually, Jeb is known to be Max's father now because I want a father figure for Max and the Flock, someone to be _nice_ to them for a change. Hey, I'm not all evil to Max, you know...**

**Charcoalbrumby: ****Actually, you are. Sorry, Unca Pafoo. But it's true.**

**Unca Pafoo: ****Um... yes, well, you know me... **

**...See ya.**

**Charcoalbrumby: ****See you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1.

**Unca Pafoo: Well, hi people! Charcoal's working on a school thing right now, so she's not coming on for a bit. About the Super vs. Normal BabyMax, a lot of people sent us messages and one reviewer. (thanks goth lolita for actually doing a review, it's just easier for us to keep track of who sent what, but still, thanks everyone!)**

**SuperMax won out because 1) Majority rules, and 2) We fail at writing a baby character. So here's the chapter, hope you enjoy!**

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****3rd January, 1982**

**Max's POV**

I was awake. It was pretty warm, and that was quite comforting. Kind of like being back in my egg.

_Maximum, you can't live in an egg for the rest of your life. _The Voice chuckled and I sighed softly. I uncurled from my little wing-covered ball, sitting up with my wings folded around me, and opened my eyes. There was a little clock hanging on a bar of my cage; I hadn't noticed that. Also, cameras that I was sure hadn't been there before were fixed in each corner of the room.

_The scientists came in overnight and fixed them up,_ the Voice explained. _They are to watch you and your progress._

Progress? I was confused. Progress in what?

_Everything, of course, Maximum. Progress in your training for your destiny._

Humph. Doesn't sound like I'll like my prophecy. I slowly brought my wings away from myself a bit further, so that they hung naturally on either side of me and slightly in front of me. Even slower, I grasped the bars of my cage and stood up, quite wobbly. Bet the whitecoats are going all drop-jawed at my wonderful display of co-ordination.

_Hmm… the scientists were right._ My Voice mused.

_Right about what?_

_The egg and its fluids. It was similar to a sensory deprivation tank. They had to stop your brain developing so fast, or else you would have decided to break free long ago, when you were unready. It also cut back on your sarcasm and informality, judging from your current state of mind._

_Well… I'm so glad they decided to cut my brain activity. Is that what you were talking about? Because I don't notice ANY use of sarcasm._

_Perhaps it was not so much of a good thing. Your grasp of sarcasm is pitiful, to say the least._

I was caught off guard by the Voice's curt reply. _Well… let me spend some more time developing it. _

My Voice simply _hmm_ed again and faded away. I rolled my eyes and started looking around again.

The clock said 5:35AM. I could sleep for a little longer, I guess, but I didn't feel like it. I suddenly became aware of the fact that the small bowl of baby food had done nothing to appease my stomach.

_For a one day old avian-human hybrid, you are actually requiring less food, _my Voice said. _Most would have woken up a few hours ago due to hunger. Perhaps this is a good thing, as you can go without food marginally further. Quite useful for your future. _

I ignored the Voice. When the stomach calls, you don't care what a strange Voice that lives in your head thinks of your destiny. I looked up at the camera and gave it a small wave, wondering if anyone would come.

Someone did. After a minute or so, the door slid open and Jeb appeared. He smiled kindly at me and I tried out my smile again. I'm sure it wasn't very good, but Jeb seemed happy that I tried. He knelt down and started unlocking my cage, saying, "Good morning, Maximum. Isn't it a bit early for you to be up? Then again, you have been sleeping for nearly the whole day and the whole night too."

I frowned, not liking how Jeb used my whole name. It was annoying, and I liked Max much better. Jeb noticed, and reached forward, tapping my throat gently. He chuckled and said, "What's wrong? Try talking and telling me, Maximum." He didn't seem to sound it though. I don't think he thought I would be able to do it. Jeb opened the door and pulled me into his arms, gently hugging me.

_Breathe out with your mouth, _the Voice said. _Try and make a sound, any sound. Once you do that, use your tongue and lips to shape the sound._

"Um…" Great first word, Max. "Um". The perfect way to start off your life - with a sound of uncertainty. Ugh!

Jeb's eyes widened. A lot. I thought they were going to pop out, and my frown deepened. I twisted around and touched his face, which made him blink and calm down.

"Go on, Maximum," Jeb encouraged. "What do you want to say?"

"M-Max," I managed to stumble out.

Jeb smiled in delight and reached for a walkie-talkie hanging at his belt. He quickly said into it, "Come to the Development Room! Subject One has started to talk. Bring some food for her, too."

Jeb hung the walkie-talkie back on his belt and kept trying to teach me how to talk. "That's right, Maximum. That's your name. Max-i-mum. Keep trying."

I said, with barely a stutter, "N-nooo. Max." Note to self: cut off the oo's quickly, or it sounds downright stupid.

Understanding seemed to light in Jeb's eyes, and he said, "You don't like Maximum? You like Max better?"

_Nod,_ my Voice instructed. _It means yes._

I bobbed my head up and down in a jerky, vertical motion, and Jeb laughed. He was still laughing and trying to get me to nod properly when the door slid open once again. We both looked up at the woman standing in the doorway, a trolley in front of her. She looked at us disapprovingly.

"Jeb, why did you let it out of the cage? You know that it could escape."

Jeb smiled sadly at me. "Sorry, Max. In you go." I somehow wobbled my way into the cage again, and sighed as I watched the door close and lock. Once again, my Voice supplied me with some words, and I got out with some difficulty, "It oh... oh-kay." Jeb chuckled again, and stood up. He walked over to the stunned woman and said, with the barest hint of frost, "I'll take over from here, Fisher. Go tell the others that Subject One should probably receive something for entertainment. A jigsaw puzzle or something. Some more food would be nice. And a blanket or pillow of some sort, too. You know that that Dumbledore wants his hybrids fully developed and in good health."

The woman nodded dumbly and left the trolley behind, grabbing at her walkie-talkie and preparing to send a message.

Jeb turned to the trolley and filled a tray with food, briefly unlocking the cage to push the tray in. Thankfully, it wasn't baby food anymore. _Scrambled eggs, banana slices, cheese sticks and some kind of diced meat. Beef, most likely. _My Voice commented, but everything it said went in one ear and out through the other. Or maybe it just went out, seeing as it began in my head.

I grabbed at the food, eating quickly and downing the water in a gulp. Jeb unlocked the cage again to refill the small plastic cup. He whispered conspiratorially, "I sent them to get you something fun to do. After they come back with the fun stuff and leave, I can let you out again. Sorry about right now."

I stopped stuffing my face for a bit and grinned at Jeb. I said again, "It okay." Success! I can say something without stuttering over it!

Jeb popped my happy bubble by saying, "_It's _okay, Max. Or it _is _okay. You need grammar lessons!" Laughing at my popped-bubble expression, he reached one hand through the cage bars and gently ruffled my hair. "I'll teach you, Max. They made me the caretaker of this room, which means I can get most things for you. Just let me know, okay?"

I nodded, still unused to the action, and Jeb laughed again. I went back to chewing on a cheese stick.

**Scientists POV**

"Amazing!" Gowlett breathed, fixated to the screen.

Telford dropped onto a seat beside him and ordered, "Zoom in and put on the X-ray."

The two scientists watched in wonder. The hybrid had grown considerably over the night - teeth, hair, height, everything.

Gowlett pulled up another image - Subject One, right after it was hatched. Then, he took a still of the current footage - Subject One in the Development Room. He placed them side by side and typed in a code for measurement.

The computer analyzed the pictures and concluded that Subject One had grown ten centimetres taller. The two scientists were dumbstruck.

Telford said, "Well… this counts as a breakthrough, right? When more powers combined, it appears to trigger something in the body's mechanism and the subject develops about five times faster than a normal child. It looks more like a toddler than a baby!"

Gowlett nodded, still staring at the screen. Telford glanced over and snorted, "You look like you're going to start bowing and worshiping that screen."

Gowlett grumbled, "Well, forgive me for attempting to analyze a scientific discovery. It's not everyday that you make one of these."

Telford said in a mock-placating voice, "Don't worry, you'll soon have more scientific discoveries."

Gowlett glanced over, brow furrowed, and asked, "What do you mean?"

Grinning, Telford held out his hand and declared, "Five on the subject speaking today."

Gowlett rolled his eyes and shook his hand. "No way." Telford just shrugged enigmatically and pressed the sound option for the camera.

The previously ignored screen made a small beep, then picked up the end of a brief conversation_. "… Max-i-mum. Keep trying." "N-nooo. Max."_

Gowlett swiveled his head around to continue staring at the screen. He muttered, "Not even a day old, it hears the name it received from Batchelder, changes it to fit its own satisfaction, and demands that Batchelder calls it by the name! Damn, there goes my five dollars!"

Telford only grinned triumphantly and tucked away the money in a pocket. He sighed, "I'd love to get a sample of that brain…"

Gowlett shot Telford a sharp glance and snapped, "You know this one's been paid for and designed specially for that Dumbledore guy. No touching its brain."

Telford nodded absentmindedly and murmured, "One can dream…" before shaking himself and walking off to the lab housing Subject Two.

**Jeb POV**

I sat cross-legged by Maximum's - Max's - cage, watching her eat. It made me feel terrible, just sitting there while my daughter is locked inside a _dog cage_. I wanted to unlock it, let her out, but that could mean that I would be relocated to somewhere else. They would take my position as caretaker of Max and, eventually, her Flock. And I couldn't let that happen. Right now, I could get Max whatever she needed, but if I got moved...

When I first found out that I would have a daughter, I was overjoyed. Finding out that she was going to be molded into a weapon, a _thing, _for someone who I had never heard of, nearly crushed me. But today, I know what to do.

I was going to make her as ready as she could possibly be. She would survive whatever this mystery person had in store for her, and come out the other side, ready to live a long and happy life.

Finally, Fisher came back with more food, a thin blanket and a jigsaw puzzle, all balanced on a trolley. I smiled at her in thanks. She just nodded curtly, took Max's empty tray and swept out of the room. I opened the door and pushed it all inside.

"Sorry, honey. I'm going to go and ask if I can let you out, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes."

Max nodded as she poked critically at a grape. "It's okay," She said, stressing the "it's" and poking her tongue out at me. I just laughed, stood up and walked out of the room.

**Max POV**

_Grape. A small sweet fruit, usually found in clusters. _The Voice showed me several pictures, and I memorized them. _Learn as much as you can, Max. Good._

I tried the grape. It was nice, very sweet. I eyed the rest of the food on the tray, and thought, _Why not?_

Five minutes later, the food was gone. I had decided that I liked mulberries and blueberries, didn't like boiled eggs, and that beans were disgusting. Jeb still wasn't back yet; I guess it was taking him a long time to convince whoever he asked.

I picked up the thing Jeb had called a jigsaw puzzle and wondered what it was. I started to hear the Voice tell me about it, but I quickly thought, _Don't tell me. I want to work it out._

It was like a big picture, of six birds in… _Nests_. Thank you, Voice. Six birds in nests. I tipped it out of the box, and it fell apart in a giant jumble. I frowned and picked up a piece, studying it. A little dip in, a bit sticking out… I could see a small bit of a bird's eye in one corner of the piece. Hmm…

There was too little room in the cage to do what I wanted. Something inside me kind of stirred, and I reached up and traced the cage door. It suddenly opened. Weird…

I put all the bits of birds back into their box, put it on the tray and pulled the whole thing out. Ahh, much more room. I tipped out the bird pieces again and started doing what I wanted. The Voice seemed confused. It said, _What..? _But as I got further, it just started laughing. I saw nothing funny about it, but oh well. The Voice could be a bit strange sometimes.

**Jeb POV**

Anne Walker looked at me, considering what I had said slowly. Finally, she asked, "You want to… let Subject One out of the cage? When you're in the room?"

I nodded and answered, as calmly as I could, "Being stuck inside a cage is not particularly stimulating for her mind. She is bored and can easily try to turn destructive."

She kept on considering, then finally nodded. "You have permission to allow Subject One free range around the Development Room, as long as you're in the room."

I could barely hide my smile as I turned and made my way out of the door. Once the door closed, I let myself smile. Max was semi-free! Still grinning, I made my way back to the Development Room. I opened the door and froze. "Max?"

Max looked up from her former jigsaw puzzle and smiled. "H-hi, Jeb." She seemed to roll the new sounds around her mouth, getting familiar with them. However, most of my mind was focused on the fact that _Max was out of her cage_.

She saw my dumbstruck expression and frowned. I quickly controlled myself and asked, "Max, why aren't you in the cage?" I felt so horrible saying that…

Max looked down at her jigsaw puzzle thing and said, "No space."

I studied the thing that she had made. Max had tipped out the jigsaw puzzle and used the different interlocking pieces to construct a tower about the height of my knee. The pieces were all facing outwards, so that it was a colourful mini-skyscraper. I snorted and said wryly, "Well, if you tried to make that in the cage, of course there would have been no space."

I saw Max's face fall slightly, and I closed the door behind me. I sat on the floor, careful not to topple the tower, and hugged Max. In a soft voice, I said, "It's ok, Max. When I'm here, you can come out of the cage. I just want to know, how did you get out?"

Max looked up at me and said, "Touched door." With one finger, she mimed running her hands over the cage door and it simply opening. I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly. The delayer hadn't worked; Max's powers were already starting to appear.

"Jeb? Jeb?" Max was tugging on my hand. I hadn't realized that I had put it to my face. I forced a small smile and said comfortingly, "I'm okay, Max. Just a little surprised. You know, that's special. You're special, Max!"

She giggled and I tried not to freak out. Another first for Max. She was going to run out of things to do by the time she was a year old. Instead, I bent down and inspected her tower.

"Max? This isn't what you do with a jigsaw puzzle…" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her face grow disappointed, and I hurried to reassure her. "But it's good, Max. Very creative."

I helped Max finish the tower and we stood back to admire our work. Well, mainly Max's work, and she wasn't standing. I was holding her. But it was still a pretty good effort. "Sorry Max, just go in the cage for a little bit. I've got to go get something." She nodded and sat in the cage as I closed the door behind me.

I went down to my office and found a small, silver camera. Nearly running back to the Development Room, I took a picture of the Jigsaw Tower and let Max back out. Thumbing a few buttons, I started printing the picture out of my insanely expensive and high-tech camera.

When it was done, I picked it up and showed it to Max. She smiled delightedly and pointed at the picture, then the wall. I took a wild guess and asked, "Do you want me to hang the picture on the wall?" She nodded (properly; she seemed to have been practicing while I was gone) and repeated after me, "Hang pic-picture on w-walllll!"

I laughed and stuck the picture on the wall with a bit of Blu-Tack. It looked odd, stuck on the bare grey wall, but I thought that at least it was _something _cheerful.

We spent the rest of the morning together, me teaching Max how to pronounce new words and how to play with jigsaw puzzles. She insisted that building Jigsaw Towers were way more fun. I had to agree, so we made some more Jigsaw Towers, but none as grand as the first.

When it was time for me to go to lunch and the meeting, I didn't want to leave. I slowly ordered more food to be taken up to the room, along with a Rubik's Cube. It was a bit advanced, but it was fairly small and Max could have fun with it without too much hassle. When the items arrived, I took my time placing them inside the cage.

I couldn't delay any longer. I hugged Max, she hugged me back and we both looked at the picture.

We would fill that wall with pictures, Max and I.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1.

**Charcoalbrumby: Hmm… no one seems to like the new chapter much. That's a bit… sad. ! Pafoo, did you replace my big word with "sad"? Please review? It lets us know that you're at least reading this.**

**Unca Pafoo: Adding one more thing. Someone told charcoal who told me that they were a little confused at what time in the HP books is this set. As of now, Harry is 2 years old, Jamesy and Lils are six feet under with Nose-and-Hairless drifting around as some psycho bit of soul. Of course, our poor old Harrykins is sitting in his cupboard. Reviews up - who wants a tiny Harry scene? Any ideas are welcome!**

**Charcoalbrumby: … Jamesy and Lils? Six feet under? Harrykins? Nose-and-Hairless? You've had too much sugar, Pafoo. *gets giant needle of sedatives* It's for the Greater Good, Pafoo. Just for all you Dumbledore critics out there.**

**And yes, we did have injections this week... I don't like injections.**

**

* * *

**

**3rd February, 1982 (Harry Potter - 2 years and 9 months to be exact) (Max = 1 month old)**

"Yes, Max, that's correct… Hmm, how did you get there with… that? Oh, never mind, as long as you got the right answer… ugh, no, what went wrong here?"

"Paper, Jeb."

"… the PAPER?"

"Yes. Blue lines make my eyes feel funny."

Jeb closed his eyes in defeat, trying not to look at the innocence-radiating Max. "All right, all right. Blame the evil, worthless, psychopathic _paper _just because it has lines to make the math easier."

The two, scientist and creation, were sitting side by side at the round table in the center of the Development Room. The "whitecoats", as Max called them, had been fascinated with how Max's complex, avian-and-scientist-stimulated brain worked. In order to study it in far greater effect, they had started to provide tiny challenges for Max to overcome. This was a great delight for Max, and a great relief for Jeb, who was emptied of ideas for keeping Max entertained and far away from insanity.

In front of them lay a sheet of paper with sums on it, made for a pre-schooler. Seeing as Max was only a month old, this would have been overkill. Then again, Max was no normal one-month-old.

Max grinned in victory, looking proudly at the simple sums on the paper. Too simple. Max got bored and used a long, roundabout way to get one plus two equals three, somehow including pi and a sequence of Fibonacci numbers. Jeb had tried to get the scientists to stop stimulating Max's brain, but they were enthralled and completely ignored him.

Who ever said raising a month old human-avian hybrid stuck in a single grey room, with nine years to look ahead to before she headed off to become someone's weapon, was easy?

"Je-eb… Have that much of hour left." Max held out her left hand and used the other to imitate dividing the left hand in two. Jeb said absentmindedly, "Half an hour, Max. Not 'that much of an hour'."

Jeb looked at the tiny alarm clock that hung on the side of Max and sighed. No matter how frustrating the little winged girl could be, he still loved spending time with her. It hurt whenever the scientists took Max away for tests.

Jeb recalled the conversation he had had with Anne just a week ago.

* * *

**Flashback**

Jeb paced up and down in front of Anne Walker's desk as he growled, "Anne, you can't be serious! There's no way that Dumbledore would give you permission to perform tests on Max. And everyday, too! She's only two weeks old, for crying out loud!"

Anne looked completely unperturbed, but Jeb had been working for her for nearly 15 years. As she reached up and swept her brown hair out of her eyes, the small gesture let Jeb know that she was annoyed and, as Max's Voice had so eloquently put it once, "really couldn't care".

Anne answered in a perfectly calm voice. "In terms of mental capabilities, the hybrid is similar to a five-year-old, maybe even higher. In the first test, its body was strengthened for two purposes - to see how human-avian hybrids react to muscle stimulators and altering the body structure to a more light-weight, efficient model, and to prepare it for more rigorous testing. The hybrid achieved both purposes with ease, although it now goes through food even faster. Apart from that minor flaw, it is similar to a small adult in the shape of a child."

Jeb was practically frothing at the mouth as he replied, "You changed Max's whole body? Do you realize that now she will go through her power suppressants even faster? She will start needing injections every hour, if you keep going at this rate!"

Anne didn't seem to care. "It requires more food now, anyway. We can just keep it constantly supplied with spiked food. Besides, it won't need the suppressants after it is nine years old."

Jeb glared very heatedly at Anne. Anne stared steadily back. Neither scientist seemed like they would back down, since both believed in their cause. Finally, Anne sighed and lowered her gaze. "Just one test per week. Are you satisfied?"

Jeb realized that this was as far as the woman would lower. He gave a huff and quietly said, "Fine."

She just nodded coolly and gestured for him to leave. Jeb kept his steps slow and deliberate all the way through the door and out into the corridor. A test a week! They could do anything to Max. Stick needles in her, make her fight, make her run until exhausted, experiment with her insides… Jeb shuddered and quickly shut out the thoughts.

* * *

**End Flashback**

"Jeb? Jeb, you sleep again? Jeb, whitecoats here…"

Jeb made a 'hmph' sound as he felt Max poke him in the arm and sat up from where he had slouched, taking a trip down memory lane. He looked up and saw Max's worried face and the scientists, standing behind her and waiting for him to finish up whatever he was doing.

Jeb sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm fine, Max. Just tired." His lips curved into a small smile as he remembered that one time. Jeb was tired after a long day of useless experiments and had fallen asleep beside Max's cage. When he woke up in the morning he had a very numb back, but it was worth it to see Max's small hand dangling through the bars of the cage and grasping his own finger, looking ridiculously tiny.

Another sigh and Jeb was out of his chair, picking up Max and slowly handing her over to the scientists. Her eyes were wide and slightly frightened, but he quickly soothed, "It's okay, Max. They're going to do some whitecoat stuff, and then you can come back and we can do something fun. Jigsaw puzzle, maybe."

Max relaxed in the arms that held her. Since her arms were pinned, she poked one corner of her dark-brown-and-white wings from under an arm and used it to wave a goodbye at Jeb. He grinned at her encouragingly. One of the scientists - Chris Ashbolt, one of Jeb's few friends at the School - turned and stared briefly at Jeb. He mouthed, _whitecoat stuff?_

Jeb just laughed and went back to packing up the sheets of math scattered all over the table. Picking up one, Jeb paused. It was the equation with Fibonacci numbers and pi. Jeb knew the scientists wanted all of the math results, but Jeb couldn't give this one up, for some reason.

He reached up and stuck it to the grey wall, adding it to the tiny collection of memories.

* * *

**Max POV**

The whitecoats were taking me away from Jeb. I started to panic, but I met Jeb's eyes. He said softly, "It's okay, Max. They're going to do some whitecoat stuff, and then you can come back and we can do something fun. Jigsaw puzzle, maybe."

I trusted Jeb. I relaxed in the whitecoat's hold. He was a whitecoat I had never seen before; really tall with kinda wavy blonde hair that I had never seen. I mean, really, really tall. I thought I was going to fall when I looked down.

I ignored all that for the time being and tried to wave goodbye, but Blondie was holding me really tight. So, I just poked my wing under his elbow and did a little wave at Jeb. I saw him smile before the door shut behind us.

_Ah, emotional farewells. How sweet. _

_Shut up, Voice._

I like that phrase. Sadly, I could only use it in my head, since for some reason, I couldn't say _shh_. I was trying, though.

Wait. The whitecoats have never taken me this way before! Where are we going?

_Courage, Max. You'll soon find out. It's nothing bad; you could even say that it's something good. But, as they say, every cloud comes with a silver lining - and every silver lining comes with a cloud. At least this is a cloud that you already know._

Clouds in my life. Hmm… what clouds did I have in my life?

Well, I lived in a dog cage. There was a cloud if there ever was one. Um, I would have to leave Jeb when I was nine, because I had to go be…

I found my cloud.

* * *

We finally reached a small room, obviously my destination. There were two people sitting at a desk, also obviously waiting for us.

The first was a woman with blonde hair, tied back in a knot. Her eyes were cold and calculating, but still somehow pretty. She wore no jewelry, except a small, expensive-looking silver watch. The serious, no-nonsense type then. She was dressed in the usual white coats, but seemed to be a much higher…

_Rank. _The Voice butted in.

Thanks, Voice.

The second person made my eyes go wide. He was like nothing I had ever seen before. He was an old, old man, with whitish-grey long hair and a beard tied with a piece of thread, to keep it in place. His eyes were strange, like I had never seen before - icy blue with a bizarre twinkle in them, filled with humor and wisdom and… was that shock? But the man quickly hid the shock and kept on scrutinizing me. He wore peculiar clothes - robes, kind of like the one Jeb had worn the night he fell asleep next to my cage. These robes were longer, and stranger, though, a deep red colour with golden and brown linings.

Hmm. Bun Woman and Beard Guy. That would have to do until I got some more information on them.

Then, the Voice suddenly snarled. My eyes popped even wider in shock, and I started to panic and wriggle. The Voice seemed to be fighting something that was trying to push in. I was suddenly scared, scared that my Voice, my helper, was being slowly overcome by something. I closed my eyes and stopped wriggling, trying to help push the something out. Suddenly, with a small twisting feeling, the something withdrew from my head.

I slumped forward, physically exhausted. Inside my head, I was practically shouting. _What WAS that? Like… like a person trying to push into my head._

_Don't worry, Max. It's gone now._

_But… but… _I shook my head, confused._ But what was it?_

_It was Dumbledore._

_What?_

The Voice sighed. If it had a physical image as well, I would guess that it would be dropping its head into its hands. _Dumbledore. Guy wearing red. In front of you. You call him "Beard Guy". Him try read your mind. We block him, push him out. You savvy?_

I glared inwardly at the mock-patient, sarcastic Voice. Then I glared outward at Dumbledore. He just smiled at me, and that made me angrier. I started to fight Blondie, trying to make him let go.

_Max, unlike what you think, fighting the scientist will do you no good. Dumbledore is magical. He can blast you away if you tried to attack him._

I swore inside my head, and the Voice recoiled. _I had no idea that you had such a foul mouth! And at such a young age, too!_

_Listen to whitecoats run silly tests over you. Eventually, they'll either get something that they never knew and swear, or they'll find out that something's gone wrong and swear. Or they'll get something really, really good, and swear. Anyway, you pick up a lot of words, such as… _Realizing that I was rambling, I quickly stopped… thinking, if that's what you call it. The Voice, who had been patiently waiting to get back to the topic, continued.

_As I was saying, Dumbledore is magical. He is here to inspect you and see how far you are coming._

I allowed myself a small, smug smile. Here was an opportunity to be disappointing.

Dumbledore looked at me, smiling in an amiable way. I wasn't affabled, if that was a word.

_It's not._

Shut up.

Anyway, Dumbledore said in a benign voice, "Hello, Maximum." Blondie put me down on the table and I stared at Dumbledore, keeping my expression as blank and babyish as possible. Dumbledore blinked, pale blue eyes flickering towards Anne and back to me in a silent question. Anne rolled her eyes, obviously thinking, _It's just faking._

Dumbledore's face lit up with understanding, and he kept smiling. After a while, I got bored and started shifting around on the desk. Dumbledore chose that moment to say, "Well, for now, I assume that you know of Jeb's fate. How he is to be killed if he does not succeed in teaching you how to speak."

My eyes shot wide open and I practically shouted, "NO! Jeb!" The second I saw Dumbledore's eyes widen in shock, then amusement, I knew it had been a trick.

_Not very wise, Maximum. _The Voice tutted in my head. _You have to be better than that. Dumbledore plays mind games, ones that you must be able to overcome._

Dumbledore said, "A little fib, Maximum, I am afraid. You see, I wanted to assess your full potential, and to do that, you have to open up to us. Do you see? Batchelder is perfectly safe."

The world went bright red, red as blood when a scientist prodded my arm a little too hard with a knife. I stood up and lunged towards Dumbledore. I wanted to break his nose, make him sorry, make him painful…

Blondie grabbed me from behind, drawing me away from Dumbledore and hugging me. No, not hugging me. Restricting me. Then suddenly the want to hurt the shocked old man across from me faded away, leaving me the little confused child that Jeb always said I was. I whimpered softly, going limp in Blondie's restraining arms. He seemed kind of surprised, but gathered me up and stood there awkwardly, arms full of birdkid.

I couldn't completely make my hate for Dumbledore go away, though. I still felt a little thrill of satisfaction as I took in his stunned expression. Blondie chuckled silently. He seemed not to like Dumbledore and start to like me.

_Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore. _The Voice sighed, sounding sarcastic and condescending. Hmm. I tucked that big word away for later use. _Always manipulating, never thinking of the consequences…_

I commented, _You sound like you know him well._

The Voice laughed. _Yes, I know him. Then again, I know everything. Except I know Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore more than most things. I was his Voice for a while, after all. _**(Apologies if I got his name 'round the wrong way. -charcoalbrumby)**

_Wha… wha…_

Dumbledore seemed to have recovered, and he said to the woman, "Anne, I would advise that some restraints be put on Maximum whenever she leaves her room. I could, of course, donate some to you…"

Huh. Bun Woman was called Anne. Well, you learn something new everyday. Well, too bad so sad, I like Bun Woman better. But too long. Bunny! That's it!

Bunny smiled in a detachedly pleased way and answered, "Thank you, Dumbledore." How I hated those two.

Dumbledore went back to me and started to examine me. Blondie passed Dumbledore a pair of those weird, silvery gloves that I could only scratch with my feathers. Dumbledore then proceeded to inspect every inch of my wings and feathers. Annoying with a capital aye!

Finally, he was done. Looking at Anne, he smiled that weirdly happy smile again and said, "That will do, I think. Notify me when the other goods are ready for an inspection."

That did it for both my Voice and I. I started fighting Blondie again while my Voice started snarling in my head. _You old moron, we aren't GOODS! Don't you know that I'm in here! Oh, you… _It then went on to use many, many swears. I listened to it with a corner of my brain, but was disappointed that the Voice didn't use any that I didn't know already.

Blondie was chuckling unashamedly now, while still holding me tight. All of a sudden, I realized two things - one more important than the other:

1 - I couldn't possibly break free of Blondie's grasp. Mutant birdkid I am, insane freak I am, but also one-month-old and toddler size I am.

2 - The Voice had gone through its vocabulary of swearwords-that-I-know-of and was going on to rude gestures.

I thought, _Ah well, got nothing to lose… _and performed one of them.

Shocked silence from Dumbledore, Bunny, Blondie, all the whitecoats and the Voice.

Hmm. Shock therapy, maybe? I tried a different one. A bit ruder in origins, according to the Voice. Also a bit tricky to perform, but it worked.

Blondie doubled over with laughter, completely releasing me and grasping at the corners of the table in an attempt to remain upright. Dumbledore's eyes were so wide, I thought they were going to pop right out. Bunny seemed to have frozen, mouth fixed in a permanent "o". The whitecoats were all suppressing chuckles, and many were failing. The Voice went through the swearwords again, too fast for me to catch any.

In the middle of it all burst in Jeb, looking wildly around to settle a glare on Dumbledore. He seemed to turn into the Ice Man. Ignoring the hysterical people all around, he strode over to me, picked me up and said quite firmly, "Come on, Max. We're going back _right now_."

I gave him a heart-melting smile. He thawed slightly towards me, but turned into the Solid Helium Man to everyone else, if possible. I said, "Okay, Jeb. We go back."

Jeb abruptly turned and started to march towards the door, but he stopped and said softly over his shoulder, "Thanks, Chris."

Ooh, Blondie has a cool name. Blondie - Chris - choked out through his laughter, "No… no prob, Jeb!"

Jeb resumed marching towards the door. Suddenly, I turned and shouted back into the room, "Chris, you come visit Jeb and me! Dum…Dumbledore is a- " I said my first swearword out loud.

Shocked silence.

Jeb slammed the door close and stalked down the corridor. Behind us, the laughter of slightly insane whitecoats floated through the air, and I knew Chris was laughing the hardest.

* * *

**Third Person Dumbledore POV**

Dumbledore paced around in his spacious office, which seemed to be completely made up of bookshelves filled with rare and unknown books. Spindly silver instruments dotted similarly frail-looking tables scattered around the room, all of which were either puffing smoke, making wheezing noises or calmly ticking away. The large windows displayed a stunning night sky filled with stars, but Dumbledore could care less about that right now.

The previous Headmasters' and Headmistresses' portraits that hung on what little wall was available peered anxiously at the agitated old man as he continued his mission of wearing a permanent path in the carpet. Even Fawkes, the imperturbable phoenix, peeked out from under his vibrant red wings and keened softly, sensing his familiar's flustered mood.

Dumbledore wasn't pleased. He had paid many fortunes out of the Potter-Gryffindor vaults for high-quality, specially trained and created guards to protect young Harry. (Of course he would use the Potter-Gryffindor vaults; it was Harry's protection, after all. His parents would have gladly done the same thing. Besides, it was for the Greater Good.) In return, he had received an impertinent one-month-old with a fondness for rude gestures and swear words.

What to do? His plans were falling down in ruins around him. The Prophecy was not being fulfilled! Dumbledore was proud of Severus for doing the right thing and returning to the Light side, but it was quite unfortunate the Severus had heard the first few lines of the Prophecy. Dumbledore thought back on it again:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

_**But he will not succeed without help of many kinds…**_

_**He will fall quickly, but friends will support him, for together they are a tower…**_

_**And everyone will depend on the scorned, the shunned, the slaves and their leader…**_

_**For they are the ones who will carry the tower on their backs.**_

Severus had heard the first two lines of the Prophecy before he was dragged away. Dumbledore had heard the entire Prophecy and had analyzed it, over and over again. He practically had Harry's life planned out for him. Of course, the poor boy would not make it far without Dumbledore to assist him.

In order to make Harry more desperate for friends, thus giving the Prophecy more ways to take hold, Dumbledore had Harry raised in quite a harsh environment. His cousin, Dudley, would discourage any other young children from becoming friends with the little boy. Of course, he wouldn't be mistreated. After all, he was with his aunt and uncle, his family. Dudley was simply slightly… enthusiastic.

As for "the slaves and their leader"… Dumbledore came to an abrupt halt, both physically and mentally. He had no idea what to do about the little blondish-brown haired demon. Valkyrie, more like; it did have wings. It was evidently quite developed in both muscle and mind, and would be ready to start training. The only problem was its attitude.

Dumbledore had seen many forms of insulting throughout his days as Headmaster of two Houses that hated each other. More than once, he had looked out of the window and seen Gryffindors smashing Slytherins into the water, Slytherins setting hidden traps to catapult the Gryffindors into the Whomping Willow, little Hufflepuff first-years being picked on and avid book-reading Ravenclaws teased and hexed. But never, in all his life, had he seen a one-month-old stand up and openly insult him!

Dumbledore sighed and eased himself into his high-backed, cushiony chair. Thoughts and ideas raced each other around in his head, buzzing angrily. Fawkes sensed his discomfort and took flight, singing a soft song of peace. Dumbledore listened, and as he listened, a small, calm smile made its way onto his face. He relaxed and enjoyed the melody, letting his mind slowly drift on a pool of tranquility.

A few thoughts came floating up through the pool, connecting themselves to each other. Dumbledore felt them slowly build themselves into a plan with two main words.

_Magical bonds._

Suddenly, the world seemed so much clearer, now that Albus Dumbledore knew how to rebuild his mighty plans.

* * *

**Fang POV**

One, two, three, four. I could hear voices, discussing something about "darkness invisibility".

Two, two, three, four. A needle was pushed into my egg. The liquid inside, along with me, shuddered at the small invasion.

Three, two, three, four. There was another small shudder. Black liquid seemed to blossom out of the needle's end, spreading out and clouding the egg liquid.

Four, two, three, four. I drank a bit of the black liquid, and I felt something inside me change. My wings slowly shifted, turning grey first, then black.

Five - oh, why am I doing this ridiculous counting thing? I twisted and turned, examining my newly-coloured wings. They were white before. A strange, too-bright white. That's strange; I'd liked my wings before I drank the black stuff.

I like black more than white now. Bottomless black wings swirled gently as I flipped over inside my egg. It was a bit boring in here.

_One more month._

I suddenly went into a thrashing fit, whirling around and around inside the egg. What was that?

_Oh, don't worry. I'm just a visitor. I'm just here to tell you - one more month._

One more month till what?

_One more month till you're out of here. _The Voice, as I'd decided to call it, chuckled. It felt funny in my head. _One more month until you see someone like you._

Wait. Pause, rewind, play. Someone like me? With wings? And living in an egg?

_Yes, someone like you. With wings, but a different colour. And she lived in an egg, like you are now. _

I had so many questions for the Voice, but it started fading away.

_I'll talk to you later… remember. One more month._

Ugh!

* * *

**charcoalbrumby: Tut tut, Pafoo. So rude.**

**Unca Pafoo: It's just swearing! And gestures!**

**charcoalbrumby: Of the very, very rude kind.**

**Unca Pafoo: …**

**charcoalbrumby: And what do you have against Dumbledore?**

**Unca Pafoo: Don't know. He just creeps me out. Anyway, can you imagine a Fang with white wings?**

**charcoalbrumby: No. Why did you do that?**

**Unca Pafoo: 'Cause I felt like it.**

**charcoalbrumby: *facepalm***


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1.

**We're so sorry! With a new beta (dubbleoseven) and schoolwork and charcoal's forgetfulness and Pafoo's forgetfulness and everything, we couldn't post the chapter yesterday. **

**We've gotten quite a few questions, so we'll do our best to answer them.**

**The Voice - *evil grin* I quote, with a few changed bits in underline. "In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great society rests on the shoulders of a group of young children. Their name... the Flock." If you think you know who the Voice is, send a message to charcoal!**

**Rude gestures - Well, in the first book, the Voice shows Max where the Institute is. Just using that technique for something... ah... slightly more mature.**

**Dumbledore and the Voice - Completely AU. The Voice was like a mentor, until Dumbledore stumbled onto the road to Hell paved with good intentions.**

**Blind Iggy - *secretive smile* You'll just have to wait and see.**

**Ari - Well, we've been thinking about cutting Ari out, because we can't see him fitting in with any of this. 'Cause I REFUSE to have Ari go to Voldemort in his so-called hatred of Max. *glares at Pafoo***

**Voice's Disappearance - The Voice isn't going to be forced to leave. It will leave on its own, if ever. *secretive smile no.2* The Voice will travel between the Flock a bit, but most of its important stuff will go to Max. **

**Hope this clears a bit up. Enjoy! and thanks for voting!**

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**5th March, 1982 (Harry = 2yr 10mo) (Max = 2mo) **

**Max POV**

_Please?_

_No._

_Please?_

_No._

_Please?_

_No. Finish eating, Jeb's getting worried about you._

I came out of my Voice conversation, sighed softly and took another bite out of the cheese I was holding. Outside my cage, Jeb relaxed and went back to writing a report on me. He was seated at the table, scribbling away furiously at an evaluation, due that day. I grinned at the sight; Jeb was going to have ink-blackened fingers for the rest of the day.

For the past month, since Dumbledore had visited and I had learnt the somewhat shocking news of the Voice's former occupation - mental advisor to Dumbledore - I had been begging, pleading, demanding, persuading, ignoring and pestering the Voice in an attempt to discover the Voice's past.

Begging and pleading failed, since the Voice wasn't moved at all. Demanding simply had the Voice on constant Snappy and Irritated Mode. Persuading had the Voice finding all sorts of excuses and counterarguments to my points. Ignoring had the Voice threatening to leave me forever, so that was discarded quite quickly. Pestering had much the same effect as demanding, except it invited the Voice to pester me back.

I sighed again and reached for the last food on the tray - a banana. I liked bananas; it was always so fun to unpeel them. As usual, I unlocked my cage door, pushed out the empty tray and waved at the camera, grinning cheekily. I'd done that ever since Jeb told me that it annoyed the whitecoats. Especially one called Jonathan Telford, who hated Jeb for having a better job than him.

I closed the door and ran my finger down its edges, relocking it. Jeb turned around at the noise, watched me with a proud smile and turned back to his report. He was used to my unlocking and locking power, and I used it as often as possible for as trivial things as possible. All to annoy the whitecoats, of course. Stretching out my brown-and-white wings, I leaned against the back of my cage and started trying to peel the banana. Even though I was extremely developed for a two-month-old, I still wasn't quite coordinated. Jeb always ended up doing stuff like peeling bananas and opening small plastic bags for me.

While I struggled, I continued my conversation with the Voice. It wasn't much of a conversation.

_Please?_

_I said no._

_Too bad. Please?_

_No._

_Why not?_

_Because you aren't supposed to know just yet._

_And why not?_

The Voice made a major gaffe. Living in Dumble's head must have influenced it a lot. _It's for your own good._

_Ohhh, for my GOOD now, is it? You're turning out to be just like Dumbledore._

It actually growled. _Do NOT compare me with that man. He is unfit to be termed the Leader of the Light and the greatest wizard of the century._

I tucked that information in the back of my head. Leader of the Light… sounds cool. _The only problem is, Voice, there's no one else I can compare you to. Please? This is something I really want to know._

_I said no! I am not Dumbledore and I refuse to tell you my past!_

Jeb noticed my heroic battle with the banana and came over to vanquish it, peeling its skin off in what must have been a very humiliating and painful defeat. I smiled at him and started to gulp down the banana.

_Just give up, Voice. Sooner or later, I'll get it out of you. And you know it. _

_Never._

Jeb finished up his Max Report and smiled over at me, fingers as black as I'd predicted. He frowned at the way I was trying to hold in chuckles, then looked down at his hands and widened his eyes. I waved my empty banana skin at him and said, "Go wash your hands!"

Jeb rolled his eyes and teased, "You sound just like a mom!" **(AN: We're using American spelling where possible, as this IS a fic set in America. However, we're not American and this story will soon shift to England, so sorry if we're "bad spellers" 'cause we're not really. We'll probably revert to British/Australian spelling later, because it's easier for us. -charcoalbrumby)**

He quickly exited the room to prevent me from teasing him back. My banana skin fell short of his fleeing back, and I started to laugh. Jeb would slip on the banana skin when he came back. As an added plus, the whitecoats watching would be really annoyed.

_Please?_

…

Uh-oh. No answer. I sat up straight, all thoughts of revenge pranks on Jeb dissipating away into the other bits of my mind. _Voice? Sorry 'bout nagging you so much. Come back?_

Still no answer. I was starting to panic. _Voice? Please, Voice? I'm really sorry…_

No answer. I jumped up and hit my head on the top of the cage, then fell back down again since I'm not that good at walking yet. Yes, in extreme situations of anger, e.g. trying to punch Dumbledore's lights out. Not when trying to run to my cage door.

The pain made me calm down a bit, and I just sat there for a few seconds, rubbing the small bump on my head that was already forming. Then I half-jumped, half-crawled over to the cage door and ran my finger down it, unlocking it and swinging it open. Being more careful, I stepped out of the cage - and stopped.

If I got any further than this, the whitecoats would blame Jeb. And then that whitecoat, who I'd seen just a few times, and who was jealous of Jeb's important job, Telford, would take Jeb's place. The few times I saw him made me nickname him "Tomato", or Tom for short, since his face was constantly bright red from anger, embarrassment, excitement, surprise or some weird mixture of all four. Jeb said that Telford wanted more experiments and less "luxuries".

So I sighed, glaring at the camera, and ducked back into the stupid cage. Hoping that Chris was there and would understand, I tapped my cheek and waited five seconds. Then, I said quite clearly, looking at the camera, "My Voice is gone. Don't know where." Then I tapped my other cheek, sat down and waited.

One… two… three… four… five… six…

My better-than-human ears heard footsteps. Fast, heavy ones, like someone was running.

… nine… ten… eleven…

Two sets of footsteps now. One just joined from a different direction.

Fifteen… sixteen…

The door flew open. In ran Jeb, Chris and Tom…Telford. Oh, I give up; I'll just call him Tom from now on. I wondered why Tom was here. He probably wanted some sort of test to see where the Voice had gone. Jeb immediately dropped to his knees beside my cage and scrabbled at the lock; I saved him the trouble and just pushed the door open. He quickly gathered me up before turning to face Chris and Tom.

Chris was standing in front of Jeb, arms folded and feet planted firmly, facing Tom and refusing to let him near me. After Meet Dumbledore Day, Chris was a firm supporter of HTAHH - Humane Treatment of Avian-Human Hybrids. Every time Tom tried to lean around Chris to take a look at me, Chris leaned with him and snarled a stream of obscenities, curses and threats of severe pain. I guess that's why Chris liked me so much – I shared his fondness for… um… _indecent_ words.

I sat in Jeb's arms and watched, wide-eyed, as the three adults roared and stormed at each other. I missed the Voice, was confused at what happened to it, was interested in the… words that were coming out of Chris' mouth, noted with a tiny, tiny slice of my brain that Jeb's hands were still tainted a faint grey and thought, _This is going to be one of those long, long days._

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**Fang POV**

Yawn.

Roll.

Twitch a toe and think, _Never knew I could do that._

Twitch a wing feather and get my attention diverted immediately.

Twitch a… I mean, my… nose and think, _What IS that thing that I can see? Right in front of me… GASP! It moves when I do!_

Realize that it's my nose… for about the hundredth time.

Life as a birdbaby in an egg is extremely boring. For your own safety, I advise that you don't try it.

_It is much better outside the egg than inside._

I went absolutely ballistic. I started thrashing around wildly, trying to fly away from the mysterious Voice that appeared. Of course, being confined inside an egg and floating in some kind of thick liquid did nothing much for my flapping abilities.

_Calm down… um… you need a name. I shall just call you 'boy' until then. Still, you recall me, correct? From a month ago?_

Crazy Voice in head who won't shut up, plus Inability to fly, equals pandemonium inside an egg. Aren't I smart?

Anyway, onto the pandemonium. I continued going ballistic, kicking and punching at the sides of my egg. My wings weren't helping much, so I quickly tucked them into the dents on either side of my spine. Not really comfortable, but oh well.

_Ugh. Morrigan, goddess of magic, help me now to calm this FOOL!_

Eh-what? I stopped my ballisticness and started listening.

_THANK you! I thought that you were having an epileptic fit! Now that you've settled down, boy, maybe you can remember me._

Um. Ok, then. Voice… I remembered the Voice that spoke to me ages and ages ago, and I compared it to the Voice as of now. They were the same.

_Very intelligent, boy. Now, can I please deliver my news?_

Like I had a choice… go ahead, o crazy and bizarre Voice in my head.

_Thank you for your very sarcastic invitation, boy. As I was sayi_ng, _you are going to hatch today. In about… half an hour, I'd say._

What's an hour? And what's half of an hour? Who's Morrigan? Hatch as in get-out-of-my-egg sort of hatch?

_An hour is a way of measuring time. About 120 of your breaths, I would say. You currently still live in an egg, with supplementary liquid to sustain you, so you do not need so many breaths. Half of an hour is about 60 breaths. Morrigan is a goddess of magic - my goddess, actually. As a magic user… former magic user, I lived in her day and I worshiped her along with the rest of my kind. And yes, hatch as in get-out-of-your-egg hatch. You will be meeting others like you._

Eh-what? Wasn't everyone like me? Wait, let me guess. Obviously not. So, they don't have black hair? They don't have hands or feet or eyes or -gasp- noses? They don't have wings? What don't they have?

_Some have black hair, but others have brown, yellow but they call it blonde, red even. Hands, feet, eyes and noses are all present. But no, they don't have wings, or any bird traits. You're unique, boy, just like four others who will come and one who is already waiting for you._

Shock! I reeled backwards in slow-mo through the egg liquid, wings unfurling again. I slowly swung them around myself, creating a portable wing-shelter. Alright, Voice-in-my-head, who are you and who are the other people like me?

_I am who I am. _The Voice chuckled in my head. _As a side note, that is how the Christian god described himself; but that's not particularly important. It merely sounds impressive and imposing. But continuing, the other people are your Flock. I assume that you know what a flock is? And, in particular, your Flock? After all, the basic information is embedded in your brain._

And that was the weird thing. I actually knew that I was going to be part of a group of bird people, and that we would be known as the Flock. I knew that I had a leader called Maximum Ride. We were all going to be… to be **_WHAT?_**

_Yes, you will be second in command to Maximum Ride. She does not know her own last name yet, but she will in time. And yes. You were created to be weapons._

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"…no consideration whatsoever for her wellbeing! You think that she would be in exactly the right state of mind after all your tests?"

"It is a subject! It was created to be a weapon. Dumbledore gave us permission to perform experiments on it! You are too soft, Batchelder. It is weak, and it will not last a single week in its job. Subject One through to Six need to be correctly matured and prepared for their destiny. You are not doing a good enough job."

"And I suppose that you're a good judge? And that you'll do the best job?" Jeb's voice was thickly layered with sarcasm.

Telford just smirked and said, "Of course I am."

Chris bellowed and charged at Telford, knocking him to the ground. Shaking slightly with rage, the blonde-haired man forced out between clenched teeth, "Jeb is ten times the man you are, _Tomato_. He has compassion, sympathy, mercy and intelligence, the last of which you definitely lack. You, on the other hand, bluster your way through life with little care for what stands in your path. If you steal Jeb's post, you will mangle it up so badly that Dumbledore will curse the name of Itex." Max cracked a tiny smile. Chris was in awe of her name-calling, and had started to use some of her names for people that he disliked.

Telford looked extremely shaken. He lay crumpled on the ground, crushed by Chris' superior weight. After he found his voice, Telford managed to croak out, "This - this is assault. I'll have you up on charges for this!"

Chris just laughed harshly. "Oh, I'm sure that'll hold up well in court. 'I accuse Chris Ashbolt of defending the job of Jeb Batchelder, and of defending the illegal avian-human hybrid created by me.'"

Telford then started to look smug again. He smirked, "This entire episode was caught on camera. I'll have your positions for this, Batchelder, Ashbolt. You won't be able to do a single thing about the mutant."

Back in her cage, Max cringed. She feared the idea of Jeb and Chris leaving, with Tom as her caretaker. He would probably turn her over for more experiments. He didn't care, like Jeb did.

Chris was silent. Slowly, he got up from Telford and stood there, stone-faced. Telford gave a sarcastic little wave and leered at the two scientists as he walked out the door. They heard him start whistling a cheerful little tune, the melody drifting away as Telford moved deeper into the belly of the School.

Max was the first to break the silence. She asked softly, "Jeb, Chris, will you be forced to leave?"

Chris closed his eyes and slumped against the wall besides Max's cage, one hand reaching through the bars to stroke her wings. Jeb sat down on the other side of the cage and smiled at her, but it was forced and sorrowful. "We'll stay as long as we can, Max. And don't worry. Even if we leave, we'll wait for you. We'll wait for as long as it takes."

They sat there for a long, long time. Chris was mouthing words - half-formed plans and resolutions - with his eyes closed. Every now and then he would open his eyes and stare intensely around the room, focusing a lot on the camera. Jeb was keyed up but relaxed at the same time. He watched Max and Max watched him, both fearful of their future but both hiding it.

Time passed. Chris was pacing around the room, unable to cope with all the nervous energy running through him. Jeb and Max were exactly the same as an hour ago. Chris and Jeb seemed to be waiting for something that would happen soon; Max worried that it would happen to her. After all, they were waiting for the something in her room, glancing between her and their watches…

Then suddenly, Max clutched at her head as a violent, twisting pain forced its way through. Jeb's eyes went wide. He leapt up and unlocked the cage, pulling Max into an embrace and muttering, "So sorry. I'm so sorry, Max... I didn't know the bond's forming and assimilation would cause pain…" He closed his eyes for a second, then let go of her and ran out the door, shouting into his walkie-talkie. Chris cast a worried look back at Max and followed Jeb quickly.

Max slowly lifted her hands away from her head as the pain receded. Something was different, she could sense. Then, the Voice spoke. _Sorry I've been away for a while, Maximum. I've had a bit of business to take care of. _

The Voice almost seemed to gesture inside Max's head, and suddenly, a floodgate seemed to open and Max's head filled with information. For a second, she caught the Voice's true name, but immediately lost it again. As the flood seemed to swirl slightly and settle, Max heard another, fainter voice, one that she felt could be blocked if she needed to.

The new voice whispered, _What happened?_

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**Fang POV**

I had all my answers. I knew who the Voice really was, and what he was doing, and what would happen to the Flock and I.

_And as I said, I would greatly appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself._

I sighed, the egg liquid flooding into my mouth and down my throat. I stretched out my arms and legs, feeling the egg sides and testing my strength against it. There was a small noise, almost like a creak.

The Voice yawned and started to fade away. _Well, it's time that I leave now. Start kicking at the sides of the egg and you'll be out in no time._

Wait, what? The Voice is leaving? I panicked and kicked. There was a crackling noise, and part of the shell fell outwards, along with a small gush of liquid. I stopped, then kicked experimentally. Another piece of egg fell away. I took the egg apart, piece by piece, until suddenly light blinded me.

For a few seconds, I couldn't see anything. Then I realized that it was more than just the light. It was the light and something weird, something I had never experienced before.

My vision went white and my head seemed to expand. I recoiled on whatever I was lying on as everything that I knew seemed to fly out into the empty space beyond my mind, connect with something and snap my mind and the thing together.

I froze. The thing was another mind - Maximum Ride, I knew instinctively. But… but… I whispered in my thoughts, _What happened?_

I felt shock reverberate through Maximum's mind. Then mild annoyance that I had called her Maximum in my head. A far-off voice said, slightly irritated and apprehensive, _Um, hello… who are you and what are you doing in my head?_

_Me? YOU'RE in MY head!_

_… I take it that you have a head, unlike my Voice, and that we're in each other's heads. Some kind of two way connection. Anyway, who are you?_

_Me? … I don't really know. I haven't got a name yet or anything. And yes, of course, I have a head. And you have a Voice? I have one. Well, I had one, it left just before I hatched and felt you in my head._

_Just before - wait… VOICE! Did you leave me to go to this… person?_

The Voice came into the mental conversation suddenly. _Yes, I did. He needed me more than you did at the moment. By the way, boy, Maximum prefers Max much more. Only I am allowed to call her Maximum, because she has learnt to put up with it._

Max huffed and grumbled, _Just barely. Anyway, who are you?_

_Mer…The Voice said that I need a name. And that I'm in your Flock. I'm your second-in-command._

The Voice seemed to hum slightly. _Second-in-command, deputy, right-wing man, number two, successor, lieutenant…_

Suddenly my side of the mental conversation came to an end. People in white coats reached out towards me and I curled up, shivering slightly. Suddenly, another man burst through a door I hadn't noticed.

He had straight, slightly spiky brown hair and a pair of thick glasses. He was slightly on the tall side and wore a white coat, like the rest of the people. This man, though, exuded an aura of compassion. I immediately liked him, unfolding my wings slightly to have a better look at him.

Behind the man came another yellow-haired man, pulling a trolley with a cage, towel and a pile of cloth that seemed too organized to be a pile. He must be one of the blondes the Voice had told me about when he was with me.

The first man gently pushed through the other whitecoats and smiled at me. He said, "Hello. I'm Jeb."

I just stared at him. He reached for the towel and dried me off - I hadn't even realized that I was dripping liquid all over the table I was half-sitting, half-laying on. It felt strange, being dry for the first time.

Jeb grabbed the pile of cloth and shook it out, pulling it over me. I was right; it was some kind of clothing.

_Tunic._

I jumped; it seemed that the connection to Max and The Voice was open unless I deliberately shut it. Jeb pulled my sooty-coloured wings out through two slits in the tunic, and I twitched them slightly to see how they felt. Jeb gently pushed me into the cage and locked the door.

I went into Psyched-Out Mode. I kicked wildly at the bars, thinking of nothing except the urge to get out. Of course, my roughly-5-minute-old kicks didn't really cause much damage. Suddenly, I heard Max in my head again.

_Calm down! You're going to have to live in a cage for the rest of your years here. You might as well get used to it._

Oddly enough, she was using a different sort of voice. Like a stay-calm-I've-got-it-under-control voice. I listened to her and settled down in a corner as close to the entrance as possible, ready to bolt out if I needed to.

I was incredibly tense as the trolley rolled out the doorway and towards some weird, far away place. We finally stopped, and the door slid open. I launched myself out… only to collide with the far end of another bigger cage, slumping down the wall to the steel bottom.

There was an odd sound, and I slowly flipped over to face it. In another cage was a girl, stifling chuckles at the sight of me.

She was toddler-sized, but looked more mature. Her hair, brown and blonde mixed together, hung around her face in small waves. She had deep brown eyes, kind of like the liquid that was injected in my egg once, only more lively looking. Max, I'm guessing. "That's right," she said. I forgot about the whole mind link thing.

The blond man wheeled the trolley out and headed down a corridor to somewhere else. I looked around the room, but it seemed all the same. A cage, a small shelf and a small bar, complete with curtain 'round the entire set up. Copy and repeat six times around the room, with a round wooden table sitting in the middle. One of the walls had a small collection of pictures - pictures of Max and Jeb together, laughing and having fun with things that I didn't recognize.

Max looked at me and said softly, "Hi." She sounded the same as in my head. I sent to her, _Hi. How do you talk?_

She smiled and said, "You need to wait a while for that. First, you should choose a name. I don't like not knowing what to call you."

I nodded, feeling fairly stupid. The Voice took over. _Now. Boy, would you like a human name or an object name?_

_Eh… what?_

He sighed. _A human name, like Jeb, Charlie, Walter, Danny. Or an object name like Peak, Storm, Buffalo. _Max snorted at 'Buffalo'. I couldn't blame her.

_Er… object name, I think._

_Living or non-living? Living includes parts of living things, too._

_Living._

_Animal or plant?_

_Animal! I don't want to be called Grass._ Max chuckled again.

_Parts of animals or animals?_

_Um… probably parts._

_Dangerous parts? Or not-so-dangerous parts?_

_Definitely dangerous parts._

_Poison-dangerous, sharp-object-dangerous or sound-dangerous?_

_Sharp-object-dangerous._

_Avian, mammalian or otherwise?_

_Mammalian… that's like horses and dogs and cats, right?_

_Correct. Well, I shall give you a list. Prongs, Fang, Tooth, Spike, and… Claw. Sorry, that is all I can think of._

_No, it's alright, _I assured the Voice. _Hmm… I like Spike… actually, no. I like Fang._

_Very well, then. Hello, Fang. _

I loved my new name. It was awesome.

_I'm sorry, my name isn't "my new name", and I'm not an "it". My name's Max and I'm a she. _

Both the Voice and I groaned mentally and mumbled the same phrase. _Shut up, Max/Maximum._


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry we haven't updated for so long! We've had a lot of problems and delays and stuff, but we're trying to get back on track now. Charcoal's decided to pull down the Luna bit because apparently it's irrelevant. It IS irrelevant. Whatever. Anyway... read, review if you want, enjoy! Concrit welcome!**

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**June 23rd, 1982 (HP - 1yr 11mo Max - 6mo Fang - 4mo)**

**The School - Max POV**

Pale, slightly sickly looking sunlight filtered in through the frosted glass window. The room that I was crouched in had bare grey walls, small regular holes in the ground about the size of my thumb and a solid, concrete-looking door. A group of whitecoats sat on pretty comfy looking chairs, scribbling away madly on their keyboards. A pair of people that I now know to be Erasers stood behind them, ready to morph should I choose to go "HY-AHH!" and go psycho on the whitecoats.

The light spread throughout the small room, lifting its colour from black to a lackluster grey, like its walls and floor and door. Then again, grey is always lacklustery, if that was a word.

_It's not._

I grumbled mentally. _Whatever, Voice. I'm not really concentrating on that right now. I just wanted to say that the room looked dead and very whitecoat-ish. _

_Well then, why did you go to all the trouble of thinking all that?_

_Because I wanted to._

_NEVER start your sentences with "because"!_

_Sheesh! Since when did you become a grammar freak?_

Then I kind of ignored the Voice after that, as a wicked looking spike (as in evil-wicked, not awesome-wicked) shot out of one of the holes. I whirled in a circle and sliced it in half with my feathers. Then I kinda ruined it by wobbling with exhaustion.

Yeah, feathers. They're kinda super-sharp. As in cut-through-Kevlar-sharp. They used to be just cut-through-cloth sharp, but they've matured, I guess you could say. Now Fang and I (take that, you grammar obsessed Voice!) are forcing the whitecoats between buying multiple-layer, super expensive nanotube gloves and sucking their stupid bank accounts dry, or getting sliced practically in two. We'll take either - they both sound pretty good to us.

I threw a glare at the whitecoats, who were all jabbering away in whitecoat lingo. "Did you see that? Zero point five second response! And the reflex with the wings! Nearly zero air resistance, perfect aim, the spike's chopped perfectly in half!"

Translated into normal talk: "That's friggin' fast and deadly!" **(Must remember to let Pafoo indulge in mild profanity at some point, or he's gonna spout it every second he can. Get it out of his system… Hey! There's nothing wrong with my system! Oh, YES there IS! A major swearing glitch that's stuck in your system is what's wrong with it! Humph.)**

Another spike shot up, about a metre from where I was still crouching. I did a kind of scuttle-jump, whipping out my wings. The spike wobbled slightly, and the top half very slowly slid off to land with a clang on the concrete ground.

_Very movie-esque. _

_Shut up. That isn't even a word._

_It is a word because the Great Me said it is. You DO realize that in the other world, if I said that yellow is purple and black is white, they would take my word as the only truth in the world?_

_Whatever. I'm not that stupid, and I can TELL that movie-esque is NOT a word._

More gasps, scribbles, frantic tapping of calculators, screams of adoration and offers of banquets and castles. Well, maybe not the last two. They're whitecoats, after all… what did you expect?

My eyes flicked up as the pale sunlight flashed off a whitecoat's watch. My senses were on high alert, and I was really, really tired now. I read the time off the watch quickly: this experiment had gone overtime for nearly half an hour!

Ooh, Jeb read my thoughts. The door flew open and crashed into the wall, revealing Jeb and Chris standing there, looking all imposing. I waved at them, jumped and flew over to Jeb, rather unsteadily and nearly crashing into the ground several times. He knelt down to reach me and hugged me, glaring his death glare at the scientists all the time. Chris stood there doing his gonna-kill-you-all expression, but his eyes flicked down to me and gave me an eye smile. I didn't bother with eye smiles - I just grinned back.

Making sure my wings were tucked away so that they couldn't hurt Jeb, I turned around and leaned backwards into his hug. The whitecoats all glared, and I involuntarily shivered. Being glared at by people who are obviously longing to chop your brain up is scary; what can I say?

Tom (aka Tomato, aka Telford) snarled, "Leave, Batchelder. This experiment isn't finished yet! We need to get all of our results!"

Jeb just snarled right back. "Your experiment has gone overtime for nearly half an hour now! You should have gotten all of your results by now, idiot!"

He marched up and tried to prod Jeb in the chest. He missed and got me instead. I twisted my back away from Jeb, grabbed Tom's finger and swung my right wing to lightly touch the finger. Tom went white as he realized I could have chopped off his finger, and he quickly yanked it out of my grip.

Thrown off his topic, Tom stuttered and grumbled, "Er… um… I-I can have you f-fired, Batchelder!" His face turned angry red again as he got his confidence back. "I'm your superior now! I can make things much, much worse for you and your little mutant!"

Jeb instantly went deathly quiet. I stared at Tom and asked the Voice in my head, _Would he? Really?_

_I hope not, Maximum. I hope not._

In a slightly hoarse voice, Jeb said, "You wouldn't. Anne won't let you fire me or demote me any more."

Tom smirked and said, "Now, now, Batchelder. I can get you kicked out, anytime I want… just like _that_." He snapped his fingers.

I hated having Tom as our Caretaker. Since Chris and Jeb "attacked" Tom in the D-Room, Tom had applied for the Caretaker job. When he first stepped into the D-Room and announced that he was the new Caretaker, with Chris and Jeb as his assistants, I'm ashamed to say that I just sat there with a dropped jaw. Fang was much more welcoming. He gave Chris the one-fingered salute. Ah, Fang… I have taught you well, young grasshopper…

But anyway, Tom did make life a lot worse. We had multiple experiments every day now.

Jeb gritted his teeth and forced out, "Fine." He let go of me and murmured, "Sorry, Max." I smiled at him to show that I didn't mind that much.

Tom dragged out the experiment for more than half an hour. When he finally said, "Take it back to the D-Room," I was dead-tired.

I closed my eyes as I felt someone gently push me into the cage. Chris, I think; his hands were too big to be Jeb's. It didn't matter since I was already half-asleep. A whitecoat slammed and locked the door, then started wheeling the trolley out of the experiment room. The only thing that kept me awake was the slight rattling the trolley made as it was pushed back to the D-Room.

Suddenly, the trolley made a sharp turn and stopped. I blearily opened my eyes and blinked at the sight of Fang, who was crouched in his cage across the room. The door was unlocked and I was pushed into my permanent cage, and I grumbled slightly at the jolting.

The whitecoat - what's his name again? Ah well, doesn't matter - pushed the trolley out the door, calling back, "I'll bring food for them in a bit. See you in a moment, Jeb." Chris quickly closed the door and unlocked my cage. Jeb did the same for Fang and he quickly crossed the floor to sit with me, using his wings to sort of hug me.

"You okay?"

I nodded and muttered, "Never been better, Fang. It wasn't that bad this time. Just a reflex test."

He nodded and went back to being silent. I tried opening the mind link, but I was too tired and the heavy mental door sprang back into place. Fang looked at me and gave a tiny half-smirk. His brow furrowed slightly as he forced the link to open properly.

We sat there for a minute or two, enjoying the company of each other's minds, until Fang gave a sigh and went slightly limp. The link snapped close again, and I gave an involuntary wince at the sudden feeling of loneliness before my mind readjusted to being in solitude again.

Fang and I shared a mental link that we could open, but it took a lot of energy to keep it open. When it WAS open, it was an incredible feeling - like you would never be lonely again, like you were invincible. We could trade thoughts as fast as we thought them, so conversation went about fifty times faster. But, like I said, it was difficult to sustain.

Maintaining the link was getting easier with each attempt, but we still had a lot of trouble with it. Jeb warned us that we would always struggle to open it for too long, even when we had decades of practice. We could still feel some echoes of super-strong emotions and thoughts through it, though, like water seeping under the concrete door.

When I finally came out of my reverie, I noticed that Jeb had left - probably to do whatever Tom had asked. It had been about half an hour, I guessed. I felt less tired and sat up, wondering if food was coming anytime soon.

Chris was busy carving away at a small block of wood he had fixed to our cages. His plan was to carve our names in the wood blocks fixed to our cages, then use our favourite colour paint to make the letters stand out. Fang immediately chose his favourite colour as black, but I was still deliberating over some form of blue or a dark sandy colour that looked pretty in the paint jar. That's right, Max. Choose the colour that looks pretty in a paint jar. What a smart decision.

I glanced at the tiny clock - 10:56. I gently shook Fang off me, and he ducked out of my cage so that I could come out. We joined Chris carving at the wooden blocks. Fang used his wings and somehow made a tiny crude dog-thing. He probably based it off a photo Jeb had shown us. I was laughing and trying to make a dog, but Jeb came in and my concentration slipped. My feather twitched and the dog's head was sliced off. Fang gave a low chuckle. Attention, everyone! Mr. Rock just laughed! This should be noted as a day of great importance!

Hmm… note it later. Fang and I both scrambled for the food, whacking each other playfully with our wings. Jeb held up his hands in mock terror and pretended to flee. I sat back with a giant beef sandwich and started gulping it down while Fang settled back with what looked like half a chicken. Chris reached over and snagged a chicken wing from the other half of the chicken, but Fang didn't see it.

_Voice? Are you there? I want to ask you some questions._

It was there. _Ask away, Maximum._

_Who are you? Or, what are you?_

The Voice sighed and said, _I'm not going to give my secrets up so easily!_

_One can hope._

The Voice ignored me. I could still feel it in the back of my head; it just wasn't talking. Every day, I tried and failed to interrogate the Voice. So far, I'd learnt that it used someone who was still remembered after three thousand years.

I racked my brain for ages after it told me that, until the Voice finally said that it was someone remembered in my future world and not my current one. Greaaaat, that makes so much sense.

Fang finally lowered the bones of his half-chicken and stared at the missing chicken wing on the half-chicken on the tray. (Wow, what a convoluted sentence!) He whipped his head around and glared at me. I backed away and started to say, "It wasn't…"

Fang slowly said, "You. Took. My. Chicken. Wing."

"It was Chri-"

Fang dropped the chicken bones and tackled me. He yelled, "MY chicken wing! You ate MY chicken wing!" as we rolled around on the floor.

I finally pinned him long enough to shout, "IT WAS CHRIS! He took your chicken wing, not me!" Fang stopped struggling and we both glared at said culprit, who was splitting his sides with laughter.

Chris stopped laughing immediately. The look in Fang's eyes was terrifying. He quickly blurted, "It was Max!"

"What? No, it was Chris!"

"Max!"

"Chris!"

"Max!"

Fang suddenly broke in and fumed, "Oh for god's sake, decide on one or the other, will you!"

We stood there for a few seconds, on the verge of laughter, when Fang suddenly muttered, "I forgot what we were arguing about."

Chris was the first to lose it, but we soon followed him into the land of insane laughter.

After we all recovered from our bizarre laughing fit, we went on eating. Fang even let me have the rest of the chicken. I watched with interest as Jeb plucked an orange and two apples from the tray. He began to toss them up into the air, getting faster and faster until he had all three fruits going in a constant circle.

The Voice noted, _Juggling._

_Oh, so NOW you quit ignoring me?_

_I can go back to ignoring, if you want._

_No, no, _I hurriedly reassured it. _I'm fine._

I was about to ask Jeb if he could teach me how to juggle, when the door flung open dramatically. No, actually, it didn't; try was the operative word. Tom flung the door open, then forgot that Chris had done something to the door so that it moved more easily than before. Tom was dragged after the door, tripped and did a spectacular face-plant into the chicken remains Fang had so graciously thrown there.

Us two evil mutants applauded Tom's textbook face-plant, while Jeb and Chris snickered unashamedly. Even the Eraser and the whitecoats behind him seemed to be hiding smiles.

Tomato lived up to his nickname, flushing a brilliant shade of red. He snapped, "You! Number One, in the cage!"

Jeb stood up defiantly and crossed his arms. He said, "Max's already had an experiment, an hour ago. You can't take her for another. For one, she deserves a day's rest. For another, she won't be at her full capacity for whatever you have planned for her."

I saw Jeb's jaw clench slightly at his own last sentence, and I reached up to pat him on the hand gently. When he glanced down at me, I smiled and tried to telepathically say: _It's alright, I don't mind if you sound all whitecoat-y about me._

I'm not sure what he made of my (epically failing) telepathic message, but I think he got the main gist of it. He gave me an eye-smile before turning to glare at Tom again.

He spluttered for a bit. "Um… err… right. Number Two, then! In the cage!"

As the Eraser roughly shoved Fang into the cage, Jeb said in a perfectly calm voice, "I can report you for abusing your power, you know. Anne said not to overwork them."

Tom glared and snarled, "Quiet, Jeb. I'll have your job for this. I… failed… before, but I can do it now that I'm your superior."

Jeb smirked and replied, "This entire episode was caught on camera. I'll have your position for this, Tomato… apologies, I meant Telford. Recognize any words from that? Besides, any employee is allowed to make a complaint against another, even if it's the cleaner against the Director of the School."

Tom went slightly pale as he recalled the exact words that he himself had used. Without saying anything, he turned and waved a hand at the whitecoat pushing the trolley with Fang. The entire procession filed out without a single sound, except for the squeaking of the trolley wheels.

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The cruel thing to do is to leave it off here… but we won't for a few reasons. (Main one being that charcoal would kill Pafoo.) ANYWAY! This chapter's really too short, Pafoo hates cliffies even when they're not… really… cliffies… yeah… and there's no reason apart from "We want to keep writing! 'Cause we have nothing better to do with our lives..."

**Now, charcoal's had enough of the Max Ride 'verse, and she dug up this random event that Pafoo had no idea happened in this year. But anyway... JKR never really elaborated on it, this IS a HP crossover and it hasn't had much HP in it, we need something to write in place of Fang's experiment because Pafoo got cold feet and couldn't be cruel, and we haven't read many fics with this scene in it. Now, onwards!**

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Azkaban

Barty Crouch Senior handed over his papers. "Bartemius Crouch Senior and Celia Crouch, come to visit Bartemius Crouch Junior."

The Auror guard looked suspiciously at the high-ranking Ministry official and questioned, "Aren't you two his parents?"

Crouch shook his head, keeping his expression smooth. Mrs. Crouch gave a small sob as he said, "We came here to let Bartemius know that we no longer consider him a son, and that we are severing all ties with him. As far as I am concerned, I have no son and I never had."

The guard nodded, satisfied, then lazily waved them through. As the two stepped onto the barge heading for Azkaban, Crouch unobtrusively reached into his robe. He felt the two small glass vials resting inside his pocket, carefully padded so they did not clink and make any noises to alert the guards. Beside him, his wife of over thirty years glanced up at him gratefully. He gave a tiny smile back, though it wrenched at his heart to break the law. And for a Death Eater son!

The barge slowly shuddered to a halt and the Crouches disembarked. Mrs Crouch shivered and let out an involuntary moan as she felt the Dementor's presence settle around them, but her husband merely squared his shoulders and walked on, gently pulling her after him.

As they walked through the low door and through the damp passageways, they could hear the Dementors being drawn back from where they walked. Many prisoners peered up at them with half-lidded eyes, mumbling nonsense or shrieking gibberish that seemed to make sense to themselves in whatever world their mind lived in. A few recognized Crouch, and they forced themselves upright to glare at him, mouthing or whispering hoarse curses from throats that hadn't been used in years.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the Crouches reached their son's cell. He was staring out at them, hair wild and eyes dull. As he saw them, a tiny spark lit in his eyes and he stirred, croaking, "Father. Mother."

Mrs. Crouch fell against the bars, beginning to sob again at the sight of her son. Crouch quickly whipped out his wand and intoned, "_Alohomora! Protego totalum! Cave inimicum! _Those two are the only wards I can put up without alerting the wards in here. They'll keep the guards from coming over, anyhow."

Nobody seemed to have heard him. Crouch simply shrugged and entered the unlocked cell, pulling out the two vials. Holding them out to the mother and son, they both immediately understood and dropped one of their hairs in it. Crouch Sr. swallowed his disgust as he watched his traitorous son transform into the woman he loved, and vice versa. He abruptly stood up and beckoned to his son, who got up and followed his father out the door.

As Crouch Sr. turned back to lock the door and take down the wards, he met his wife's eyes. Seeing the anguish in them, Celia Crouch stepped forward and gently clasped his hand in her own skeletal ones. She murmured, "I am dying, Barty. You know it, and I do too. This is my last request from you: don't worry about me."

She closed the door herself, the lock clicking automatically into place. Crouch Sr. took down the wards and left, keeping a firm hold on Barty Crouch Jr. to keep him from getting lost like a small child. The stern man turned to look one last time at his wife. As he turned away again and walked off, Celia saw a single tear fall from his face.

Then the Dementors gathered about her cell and she lost herself in her living nightmares.

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(Pafoo's still on tensed-up mode because we left a very, very un-cliffyish cliffy back with Fang. Charcoal's on annoyed mode because this chapter is too short. Pafoo's practically begging to let out who the Voice is. Charcoal just edited this author's note so that it didn't say who the Voice is. Slightly disgusting stuff ahead, which consists of a memory of a pretty gruesome sample, even though the heartless Charcoal doesn't think it's gross. There's a reason this thing is rated T, you know. Onwards!)

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The School - Max POV

"Fang!"

I didn't wait for Jeb to let me out. As soon as the whitecoats left and the door swung shut, I swiped a finger down my door and immediately opened Fang's.

He was lying crumpled inside, completely dead to the world. I saw little pricks along his forearm where the whitecoats had taken all those samples. A few feathers were missing on his left wing.

"Fang. Fang, wake up. Fang!"

Obviously, he didn't answer. Jeb said urgently, "They gave him propranolol. It slows down his heart rate and increases his blood flow, to make it easier for them to take samples. Bird metabolism obviously messed with it in some way. If he doesn't wake up soon and move around to get his heart moving, he could attain more dangerous side effects than just tiredness and sleeping."

I heard nothing but 'it slows down his heart' and 'if he doesn't wake up soon'. My imagination filled in the blanks to be 'it slows down his heart until he dies if he doesn't wake up soon'.

"Fang, you need to wake up right now!" Still no answer. Chris was half-shouting into his walkie-talkie, gesturing wildly even though whoever was listening to him couldn't see. A tiny slice of my brain wondered why he would waste energy on that.

I opened the mind link as wide as I could and scrambled through, the lack of support on Fang's side making the mind-tunnel shudder and threaten to crush me. Suddenly, I found myself in Fang's mind.

It was weirder this time. Before, it was like entering a sort of cave, with loads of little papers floating around. Some were organized; most weren't. A lot looked like they were little pictures, stuck on paper and drifting around randomly. Mental-Fang usually sat in the middle, with a never-ending pile of paper. He seemed to be writing, but he was writing a hundred times faster than the real world. The pieces of paper just got written up and flicked out to join the slowly blowing papers around the room, or over to one of the organized piles.

It took me a few visits to realize that that was how Fang mapped out his mind. The papers were his thoughts and memories, and mental-Fang was scribbling down all his thoughts and ideas. I don't think he really knew how he organized; I didn't know mine either. Fang was still trying to puzzle it out.

Now it was like entering some kind of storm. The papers were whirling much, much faster, whipping by without stopping so that I couldn't read anything. The organized piles were still somewhat in their piles, but looking more like a shifting mess of papers orbiting around each other. There were no black cave walls; it had been replaced by a mist-like substance of some strange colour I had never seen before.

I waded around the papers, yelling Fang's name in his own mind. I heard no reply, if there was any. The papers kept slapping me in the face so that I couldn't see anything. I slapped them away and kept plowing through the paper hurricane.

I reached up and accidentally grabbed one when I tried to whack it away. It shuddered and a ghost-like copy of it detached itself and floated upwards, expanding and hovering in front of my eyes. I recoiled; it was an image of a whitecoat with a needle in his hand, moving towards Fang.

Other bits of paper were zooming towards me, little ghost images disconnecting themselves and lining up around the first image. It formed a sort of video and began to play. I stood there, frozen in morbid fascination.

_The whitecoat took a step closer to Fang, who was strapped down on the table. He had a look of detached focus on his face, like he didn't care about Fang, just the results he could get from him._

_He stabbed the needle deep into Fang's arm, and Fang's eyes went wide. He started trying to thrash around, but the restraints on the table stopped him. When the whitecoat pulled the needle out, it was filled with a brownish, semi-solid substance. The whitecoat emptied the needle into a small jar, then asked another whitecoat, "Alright, bone marrow done. What's the last one?"_

_Whitecoat 2 consulted his clipboard and replied, "Just blood. Give him some propranolol to get a better sample first, though."_

_Whitecoat 1 nodded and set aside the needle. He picked through a tray and came up with two more - an empty one, and one with a light orangey fluid inside it. He approached Fang and raised the filled needle…_

I gave a mental scream and slashed my hand through the ghostly video. It broke up and the little images got sucked back into their respective papers, which got snatched away back into the paper hurricane again. Shuddering a little, I set off through the caves of Fang's mind once more.

I felt like I was going to wander in there forever. The cave was just like an entrance cave; I arrived there when I walked through the mind-tunnel, and Fang seemed to spend most of his time there. He wrote up memories and bits of knowledge, then sent them off. Then there were tunnels and tunnels, all leading off to various caves, where different types of knowledge was stored, like the language cave. I didn't get lost; I had an innate sense of which cave was which when I thought hard about it.

I just got out of the food cave (Fang really, really, really liked chicken, it seems) when I found a cave that labeled itself in my mind as "Voice Cave". I hesitated. This was where all of Fang's knowledge on the Voice was. Maybe he had more than I did… but that would be intruding on his privacy. After a bit of deliberation, I entered.

I reached out and grabbed a random piece of paper, but there was no image. Just a swirling vortex of blinding colours. There was a sound - the word "magical", but that was it. Then all the other papers dive-bombed me, and a little sound clip started playing.

_"I won't tell you!"_

_Fang's voice took on a weird double timbre. "Oh, the hell you will. Come on. It's just a little bit of knowledge about yourself. All I want is to know about you."_

_"I… my name… how are you doing this? Some kind of power?"_

_"I have a power? That's cool. Can you tell me about yours, if you have any?"_

_"But… I… you have a persuading power…"_

_"Wow. Oh well, it doesn't really matter to me. Please, just tell me about you?"_

_"If… if you won't tell Maximum. Or anyone else. Unless I say you can."_

_"Sure. Just please tell me."_

_"I… was a wizard. A very powerful "Light" wizard, that Dumbledore would say, but there is no true Light. Just shades of grey and how you choose to use your power. I was… famous. I still am. Wizards and witches in the Wizarding World know of my reputation very well, just not by my actual name._

_"My name is… is Myrddin Emrys. My close friends call me Emrys, but everybody else in the Wizarding World calls me…"_

A piercing alarm went off, and suddenly I was booted out of the cave before I could finish listening to the memory. I charged forward to try and get back in there, but the way was blocked. Something that sounded a bit like a prerecorded message intoned, "You are not Fang. You may not view this memory." Damn Voice's memory protections...

There was nothing to do but to continue searching for Fang. It took a long while, but I finally found him.

Fang was stuck in a cave with orange coloured mud-like substances sucking at his legs, keeping him there. He seemed kind of trance-like, eyes closed and head lolling slightly. His wings were out, and he was trying to free himself. I dived forward and grabbed Fang, wings flapping madly to try and pull him out. He came out with a squelching sound, and he opened his eyes. Fang gasped, "Whoa! What happened? Why are you in my head? I got drugged with something called poppyanol or something. What happened?"

I grinned and let the slight pull on myself suck me back into my own head. I opened my eyes. Fang was blinking in a disoriented way, looking around. Jeb collapsed into one of the small wooden chairs littered around the room (they used to be set neatly at the round table, but over the last… um… six months, they've been scattered around quite a bit). Chris let out a huge sigh of relief and started talking into the walkie-talkie again, this time calmer.

"Wha…" I death-hugged Fang, and he started choking on whatever he was going to say. Chris paused, looked at us and added into the walkie-talkie, "… no more medical assistance, but I think Fang's in danger of being hugged to death."

I just snorted and let Fang breathe. He gulped air for a while, then said, "What happened? Why were you in my head?"

Post mind-link activation exhaustion hit me hard, and I buckled. I sat-fell on the floor of Fang's cage, and told a very mangled story of what happened to Fang. Jeb kept butting in every now and then, more often than not to correct me on my pronunciation of propranolol. At the end of the narrative, Fang looked, if possible, even more confused.

He said slowly, "So… I got drugged, you went in my head, dropped me in puddles of polopanal," ("Propranolol!" Jeb objected) "Whatever, polopanal, properlonal… went in my head, ran through a bunch of trance-inducing videos, discovered bone marrow, couldn't find me because I was drowning in a puddle of orange stuff that I think you said you dropped me in, in the first place, and injected me with a cave network?"

I looked at Jeb. He looked back at me. I did a head bang and Jeb slumped back in his chair. Fang whipped his head wildly between us, then started making growls of annoyance while punching the cage. Chris stared at us and said into the walkie-talkie, "On second thoughts, I think that they're all going crazy…"

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Hogwarts - 3rdP Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth and pondered Harry Potter. The little baby hero was essential for the true defeat of Voldemort, and therefore had to be raised in the correct conditions. Dumbledore was sure that his relatives would provide the perfect environment - fairly stern and non-indulgent, but not abusing. Their other son, Dudley, would make a good playmate for Harry, even if he was a little overenthusiastic.

Then, when he came to Hogwarts, Dumbledore would give Harry as joyful a childhood as possible, to store up the good memories of the Light side. He would have friends who Dumbledore had already picked out.

Professor Trelawney, he had discovered, could truly prophesy. However, she only ever did this very rarely, which was not enough for Dumbledore. He needed information of the future for his plans, and as much as possible. An oracle spell from Delphi allowed his pet Seer to access her Inner Eye for real. Dumbledore listened to the harsh prophecy of Harry's friends that she gave and made his choices accordingly.

A nice variety and balance would be best. One who is easygoing and relaxing, one who is logical and hardworking, one who is open-minded and one who is energetic and independent. Perhaps he should have a fifth, to even the number of people, but Dumbledore dismissed the idea. Four extremely close friends were enough.

Fawkes gave an agitated squawk. He had been troubled ever since Dumbledore had been laying down his plans. Dumbledore wasn't sure why; Fawkes only gave that type of call when there was some form of wrong nearby. Perhaps the phoenix was soon approaching a Burning Day.

The firebird rose up, indignant that Dumbledore was ignoring him. He knew that the Headmaster's plans were not completely Light, as he was virtually ruining lives. When Dumbledore kept dismissing Fawkes, he became furious.

A minute later, Dumbledore stood up and rubbed his head where a book on Light rituals had fallen. Fawkes had descended into some sort of rage, destroyed his office and flashed out in high dudgeon. The old man ran to the window and gave a soft cry of dismay. His imported Italian lemon drop assortment had been thrown out of his office!

Curse all birds! Dumbledore took a deep breath and decided to compose himself by going to evaluate the avian-human hybrids. A new one should have come along, according to his plans. Dumbledore took a walk off the Hogwarts grounds to the apparition point and left with a sharp crack.

A few hours later, Dumbledore returned in even higher dudgeon than Fawkes. Curse all birds and their foul-mouthed, evil-gestured human hybrids!


End file.
